#please look at a piece of printer paper

[peachdues]

Assuming this is inches, I think some of y’all don’t realize what >5 inches looks like

so we all know of the Towel Levi figure, yea?

yea uhmmm… if my math is right on this then

that is about how big his dick is,,,, that’s all,,,,,

(i found the uncensored pic off of Twitter but i didn’t want my post flagged so you’re gonna have to go there to find it)

[donuts4evry1]

I'm so mad I searched up "Box Jellyfish Plushie" AND ALL GOOGLE SHOWED ME WERE HYDROZOANS AND SEA NETTLES IM SO PISSED OFF

[copperbadge]

Recently I ran across an article about an art center that was doing creative expression classes for people with disabilities. Not that unusual, I've encountered that and trauma-oriented art therapy before, but it was the first time I'd come across the idea since getting diagnosed with ADHD. While the class was aimed more at high-needs disabilities, it occurred to me that I could -- if I wanted -- make non-prose art about being disabled.

Outside of my work in scene design I've never been much of a visual artist because I've never felt I had the combination of "something to say" and "a meaningful way to say it", but I started to question how meaningful and complex I really had to be to just make some statements about having ADHD. I can do it in prose, after all.

So I started thinking about how you would talk, in visual language, about things like time blindness, shame stemming from undiagnosed disability, the shift in behavior that medication can induce. Ways to express my condition to people who don't experience it. I still didn't really know how to build the pieces but whenever I went to an art museum I'd think about how I might do a gallery installation. The centerpiece of my mental gallery was a pair of barcodes, one marked "Neurotypical" and one marked "Neurodivergent".

[ID: An interior view of a small booklet, with pages marked 1 and 2, showing barcodes -- on the left, labeled Neurotypical, and on the right, in slightly weirder configuration, labeled Neurodivergent.]

And then I thought, why not make a zine? Nothing you're thinking of couldn't be put in zine form instead of on a gallery wall.

[ID: The booklet continues to pages 3 and 4; on page 3 is a postage-style label reading AUTISM with up arrows on either side, and on page 4 is a QR code labeled ADHD. The QR code technically should work but it just dumps a block of text I wrote about having ADHD into a browser.]

I grew up with zine culture in the 90s and I always wanted to make one but much like with visual art, I never felt like I had the right kind of thing to say; either I had too much to say or too little, and anyway I wasn't confident that what I wanted to do wouldn't just come off as trite and obvious. But you can make a six-page zine out of a single sheet of paper, so I did: I made Helpful Labels For Strange Brains by idab zines, a division of Extribulum Press. (i--dab is a term for a cuneiform tablet that contains a royal communication.)

[ID: The last two pages feature the same image -- a cereal bowl with a spoon in it, the spoon containing a single Adderall pill. One image, however, is captioned "Wake up. Pour yourself a cup of iced coffee. Fix a bowl of cereal. It's going to be a good day." while the other is covered in a detailed ADHD-style step-by-step process for the same actions, culminating in "It's going to be a day like that."]

I'm pretty pleased with how it came out -- the art all looks intentional and it still has that "taped this together after school" aesthetic I remember fondly from the 90s. And the confines of six pages, each only a few inches square, offers a good structure to keep things clear, simple, and meaningful.

[ID: The cover of the zine, labeled "Helpful Labels For Strange Brains" in a kind of esoteric stampy font.]

Especially nice is that if you wanted to you could just hand out the flat sheet, and let folks fold it into a booklet or not -- there's instructions for folding it on the back of the zine. Additionally I have some sticker backed printer paper so I could print it such that you could literally turn the labels into real labels.

Anyway if you want it, here ya go. You can print it on a single sheet of paper and follow the instructions on the back to fold it. I thought about selling it but I do not have the spoons to do a bunch of printing and folding and shipping.

[headkiss]

steady hand

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: hotch catches you at the worst times, but you’re not mad about it. or: 4 times you need hotch’s help +1 time he needs yours.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: probably very inaccurate descriptions of r’s job (it’s for the plot, okay??), shy!reader, a very small injury description, yearning (?), first kiss, fluff !!!

a/n: hiiiii this is my very first hotch fic (gasp) so i hope i did okay!!! i’m excited to be writing for him and i have enjoyed it so far and i hope you will too!!! please please let me know what you think and if you’d want to see more of him from me <33

༄

People are usually impressed when you tell them you work at the BAU.

Which, you won’t lie, is something to be proud of, but their first thought is always that you’re doing something big and solving cases. They ask you if you were there when this case was solved or when that killer was caught.

Then there’s the nodding and dissipation of their excitement when you explain that you work a desk job there. Organize files, write reports, that sort of thing. That is a lot less impressive to most.

You’re no Agent Morgan, or Dr. Reid. Certainly no Agent Hotchner or Prentiss. Instead of being on the field, you spend your time fighting with a printer.

Getting the papers you needed should have been simple, a quick in and out that would have you back hiding behind your desk in minutes. Of course, the universe or something must be against you, because instead, you’ve spent at least twenty minutes trying to figure out what’s wrong.

It isn’t jammed (you’ve checked about five times to be sure) and you’re not educated in printers enough to know how to fix whatever’s going on. You’re just lucky nobody else has needed it yet.

“Come on,” you mutter, trying to pull it away from the wall to get a better look.

You’re sure there’s stress sweat building on your forehead. The last thing you want to do is ask someone for help, to make yourself too visible in this place full of important, intimidating people. You’d rather struggle on your own for now.

You make sure that the thing is plugged in (it is) and then check if it’s jammed. Again.

“Piece of shit,” you’re mumbling at the thing, leaning over it looking for anything out of place.

That’s when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. The sound has you jumping, your knuckles smacking against the wall where your hand had been wedged between it and the printer. You turn around to find Agent Hotchner.

He’d been walking by the printer room when he heard the grumbled curse words. Peeking inside, he’d been pleasantly surprised to find you fussing over the printer. He bit back a chuckle before making his presence known.

You tug your skirt down where it’d ridden up, fiddling with the hem as you try to push down your embarrassment. Of course he’d be the one to see you, in his crisp suit and all. He’s leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, his arms crossed loosely. You swallow and try not to look at his biceps.

“Sorry, sir. The printer doesn’t seem to be, um, printing.”

“I’m assuming that’s why you were fighting with it.”

You fight a wince, “you heard that?”

“Heard what?” He asks, though by the twitch of his lips, you know that he’s well aware of what you’re talking about. He then gestures at the cause of your issues behind you, “it’s not jammed, is it?”

“I don’t think so. It wasn’t when I checked, at least.”

You’re trying not to act as nervous as you are. You don’t think you’ve ever really spoken to Agent Hotchner, save for small ‘hello’s and that one time you apologized for bumping into him. He’s handsome—you’ve always thought so—and, more importantly, he’s basically your boss.

“Let me take a look,” he says, walking over. You step aside, staying out of the way.

“It’s alright,” you start as he looks over it, “I’m sure you have much more important things to do than fix a printer, sir.”

Hotch’s eyes flick over to where you stand, a hand still fiddling with the hem of your skirt, your hair a little messy, your eyes a little wide and worried. You look pretty, he thinks. And sure, he does have things he should be doing instead of trying to fix this printer, but he doesn’t really care.

“Don’t worry about that,” he tells you.

He looks back to the printer, and he seems pretty convinced about trying to help, so you drop it.

While he’s distracted, you take the opportunity to look at his profile. The slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the way his brows are pinched a little in focus. It’s unfair, you think, for him to be smart and brave, and be so good-looking on top of it all.

Like he’d heard your thoughts, felt your gaze, he looks over at you again. You turn your eyes toward the floor quickly.

It’s a couple of minutes before anyone speaks. You, staring at the carpet until your vision goes a little fuzzy. Hotch, pushing buttons and flicking switches trying to figure out whatever was going on with the damn printer.

Then, the sound of the ink swiping over the pages, the papers spitting from the printer. You look over at it, mouth slightly parted. What can’t he do?

The sound of your name has your eyes snapping up to his. It’s yet another surprise, him knowing your name. You’re not that important, in the grand scheme of things at the BAU, in the world, really. Someone meant to stay hidden in the background. And still, he knows your name.

“It should be fine now,” he says, grabbing your papers from the cartridge and handing them to you as he stands up straight. “Let me know if it gives you trouble again.”

You grab the pages from him slowly, still shocked at the whole exchange. Your fingers brush against his as you do. “I- Thank you, sir.”

He nods, moving towards the hall. He pauses in the doorway, turning back towards you. “Hotch is fine.”

“Sorry?”

“You keep calling me ‘sir.’ You don’t have to. Just Hotch is fine.”

“Right. Sorry, sir- I mean, Hotch,” you test it out. “Thank you again.”

Yes, Hotch thinks, he likes you saying his name a whole lot more. He sends you a kind smile, “no problem.”

Hotch walks away, probably towards his office where he has very important things to do. Stuff that was surely delayed because he paused to help you. You stare at the doorway for a minute, until you give yourself a papercut and look down at it.

Aaron Hotchner knows who you are.

-

You’re two shitty coffees deep so far, your report open on your desk, the typing bar blinking on the screen of your computer.

There’s pages to go, though you’re not sure how many. You’ve been doing the sort of mindless, robot typing you do when you’re tired. When you’re preoccupied with trying not to glance in the direction of Hotch’s office.

The team got back sometime last night, long after you’d already gone home. From somewhere in Indiana, you think. You’re not sure how they do it, flying about and still coming into the office. You’re tired and you can’t even remember the last time you’ve been on a plane. Add the crime fighting and you’d be a goner.

Blinking yourself from your thoughts, you look back at the blank pages spread out in front of you. It’s not unusual for you to be missing pieces that you need to complete things, it’s just inconvenient. You always end up having to ask someone for the files you need, and then you feel like a burden.

It’s stupid, but in a place full of important people, it’s easy to feel like you’re just in the way.

Anyway, it’s your job, so you push away from your desk and stand, tugging the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

Your first thought is to go to Reid. As far as friendship goes, you’d consider yourself closest to that definition with him. He’s also the least intimidating of the bunch, probably because you see the most of yourself in him.

You find him in the kitchen with Agent Jareau, both holding their own mugs, probably filled with the same coffee as the one that sits on your desk. You knock gently on the door even though it’s open.

“Hi, sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if either of you have the files from that case you worked a couple weeks back. The one in Ohio,” you shuffle on your feet under their gaze. “I need them for this report.”

“Hey,” Reid speaks first, smiling kindly, “I don’t remember keeping them, but I can double check in my desk if you would like.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to do that, I’m sure I’ll find them somewhere.”

You’re about to head out the door when Agent Jareau stops you, “wait, I’m pretty sure Hotch has them. I can go ask him for you.”

It’s silly to feel nervous talking to them, especially when nobody’s ever been anything but nice to you. A little bit of the twist in your gut comes undone.

“No, no. I’ll go ask him if he isn’t busy, thank you though.”

“You should be fine, the door’s open,” she tells you.

You nod, sending the both of them a smile you hope doesn’t look awkward. “Thanks again.”

Their voices picking up their conversation follow you out the door. You cross the space, saying small ‘hello’s to Agent Morgan and Agent Prentiss when they greet you. You try to ignore the prickle of eyes on you as you climb the steps and head to Hotch’s office.

His jacket is draped across the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up on his forearms. It’s probably the most disheveled you’ve ever seen him, and he’s only missing a single layer. You look away from his arms when he says your name.

Hotch had his head bent, looking over a case when he’d heard footsteps, and he’d been glad to find you standing in his doorway. You work in the same place, yet he barely sees you. That’s probably why something lightens in his chest every time he does. The rarity, that’s all.

“Is this a bad time?” You ask.

“Not at all,” he leans back in his chair, “what can I do for you?”

“I’m really sorry to bother you, sir-”

“Hotch,” he reminds gently. His voice is easy, a hum that you think would sound good no matter what he was saying.

“Right, sorry. Hotch. I was just looking for some files that I need from a case you guys had for this report.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

Then, he smiles in that way that Aaron Hotchner so often does. A small twitch of his lips, a lift in the corners. One that you probably wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t paying so much attention. One that feels sort of like a gift.

You shake your head at yourself and elaborate, “the Ohio case. Three weeks ago, I think. I asked Agent Jareau, but she said you had them, so…”

Hotch wants to reassure you, but he’s not sure how to do it without standing up and letting himself grab your hand and squeeze it the way he’d like. And he can’t do that, not when you’re already nervous. Not when he’s not sure he could hold back after one touch.

“It’s no problem,” he opens one of his drawers, flips through folders until he finds what you’re looking for.

He stands up and walks around his desk until he’s in front of you, and he lets his gaze flick over your face while he has the chance. Your eyes find his easily, and you hope he can’t hear the catch in your breath.

Aaron isn’t usually so quiet with his affections, but that’s because he’s never found himself feeling this way at work. He wishes your desk was on his way to his office, just so he’d have an excuse to stop and talk to you. He makes sure never to use your favorite mug from the cupboard, just so you’ll be more likely to have it.

Hotch clears his throat, “here they are.”

He holds up the folder between you, his hand holding it loosely, the other hanging by his side. His fingers twitch.

You’re embarrassingly distracted by his exposed forearms, eyes trailing from his hand to the skin of his arm, to the way his shirt is tight where the sleeves are rolled. Then, it’s the color of his tie today, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows.

His hand reaching for yours is enough to erase everything else. He lifts it and places the folder in your hold for you. Your skin burns even when he pulls away.

“You alright?” He asks. Probably because you’d been staring at him like a weirdo.

Get it together.

“Yeah. Yes, sorry. Just sort of spacey today, I guess.”

When you look back to his face, there’s nothing but a sort of softness in his eyes you can’t identify. He smiles at you, and for the second time, you feel like you’ve won something.

“Is that what you needed?” He asks.

You open the folder and peek inside. You find exactly what you’d been looking for, not that you’re surprised. Hotch knew what you’d meant and you didn’t doubt that.

“It is. Thank you, Hotch,” you grin lightly when you get that part right. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“You’re not in my way.”

Hotch says the words like he’d known you needed to hear them, like he’d known what runs through your mind so often, like he can read you. He probably can, you think. He is a profiler after all.

Still, the words make your heart do a stupid little jump.

“I’ll bring them back when I’m done,” you say.

“No rush. They’ll just be going back in the drawer anyway.”

“Well, thank you again.”

“It’s no problem, really.”

Hotch watches you walk back to your desk with your head down. Looking at the folder in your hand, he thinks, at least it’s an excuse for you to come see him again.

-

Hotch isn’t in his office when you return the files.

Since you can’t thank him in person—assuming he’s off with the team somewhere saving lives—you leave a sticky note on top of the folder. You drop it on his desk and leave before you second-guess yourself and rip the note off.

You can’t help but think that the office feels sort of empty without the team there. Without Hotch there. It’s how it is most days, so you’re not sure why the absence feels so present now. You shake it off.

The day passes by, then your drive home, and the rest of your night, too. Through it all, you can’t stop wondering what Hotch is doing, wherever he is. Hoping he’s safe.

You’re certainly not expecting to see him the next day, back so soon, but you can’t say you’re upset about it. It’s a brief glance, him walking into his office, the rest of the team and their chatter following, but it’s enough to make your work seem less tiring for some reason.

It was a quick case, and Aaron was glad to at least get a couple of hours of sleep in before coming into the office. When he sits at his desk, the first thing he notices is the folder you’ve left there. The small note in your handwriting.

‘Thank you :)’

He peels the note away and folds it up. Without thinking, it ends up tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. It’s a simple piece of paper, but it’s heavy where it sits. He rubs a hand over the pocket where the note is and gets to work.

It’s not until a couple of hours later that Hotch ends up leaving his office. Conveniently, in the direction of your desk.

You’ve been burying yourself in your work, your leg bouncing nonstop, your nose inches away from the pages on your desk, your chair pushed in as close as it’ll go. You have to, because if you take a break, if you look away, your eyes will search for Hotch, and you don’t really want to think about what that means right now.

About the ache in your chest when he’s gone, the urge to go ask him a stupid question just to talk to him. It’s awful.

The pen you’re using suddenly runs out of ink, and it makes you pause long enough to feel a cramp in your hand. You sit up and huff, pulling your drawer open and digging around for another pen. Your name in Hotch’s voice has you shutting the drawer and spinning quickly.

It’s just your luck that your shirt gets caught, that the sound of the rip is too loud to play off or ignore.

“Oh gosh,” you whisper, looking down at the damage.

It’s a cheap shirt, you shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s worse than you’d expected. This is what you get for sitting so damn close. The side seam is split, and if you move too much, your bra would probably be visible.

“This is so embarrassing,” you say, holding the rip shut with one hand and holding the other on your forehead. Of course this would happen to you in front of him.

Aaron’s eyes hover where your skin had been exposed, even now that you hold your shirt shut, wondering if it’d feel as soft as it looks. He can’t even remember what he came over to do or say.

He swallows and looks at your face, “do you have another?”

You shake your head, still hiding behind your hand, “no. I really, really wish I did, though.”

“I have an extra one in my go bag. If you’d like?” He hears himself say the words, and he doesn’t regret them, necessarily, but it’s clear to him that you mess with his brain. He doesn’t think straight where you’re involved.

You peek up at him, dropping your hand to your side. “Are you sure? I could probably just use some paper clips, or something.”

“Nonsense. I’ll go get it, okay? I’ll bring it to the bathroom so you can change.”

“You don’t have to-”

Your name leaves his mouth again, gentle but firm. “I’ll grab it.”

“Okay.”

You speed-walk over to the washroom and walk in, closing the door only to block out the rest of the office, who surely noticed what just happened. You’re probably never gonna live this down.

Your overthinking doesn’t get very far, because after only a minute, Hotch is knocking on the door.

“It’s just me,” he says. ‘Just,’ like that word could ever be used to describe him. “You can just open the door a crack and I’ll pass the shirt through.”

You do as he says, tugging the door open until you can see a white dress shirt (of course) in his hand. You reach out and he hands it to you easily.

“Thank you, Hotch. I’ll wash it and give it back, I promise. Sorry for this.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You can’t see his face, but you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “I mean it.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly, closing the door.

His shirt is wrinkled from being packed in his bag, and the sleeves are long when you put it on, but it smells like him and isn’t ripped so you really can’t complain. You roll the sleeves and tuck the bottom into your pants, looking in the mirror to make sure you look at least a little bit put together.

Holy shit, you think. I’m wearing Aaron Hotchner’s shirt. What world have you been living in recently? To be interacting with him more often, to be feeling this sick skip in your heartbeat whenever you do.

You toss your ripped shirt in the garbage, look up, and huff out a breath before leaving the bathroom. You’re surprised to see Hotch still standing there.

“Oh,” you nearly bump into his chest when you walk out the door, but the warmth of his hand on your shoulder steadies you. “I didn’t know you were still there, sorry.”

“You don’t need to say sorry so much, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You’re dreaming, surely. You pinch yourself on the inside of your arm, just in case. You don’t wake up.

“I- um,” you’re fumbling for words because he’s standing there, looking at you softly, calling you ‘sweetheart’ in that voice of his.

Aaron doesn’t know where that came from, but he’s said it and it’s happened. With the way he thinks about you, how often he does, he can’t really be surprised. Besides, seeing you get flustered because of him is absolutely worth it.

“I wanted to thank you for getting those files back to me so quickly.”

Your eyes flick over to his arm, and it’s then he realizes that his hand is still on your shoulder. He pulls it away and stuffs it in his pocket. He’s probably imagining it, but he swears his palm is tingling.

You wipe your hands over your thighs, “right. It was no problem, really. I was mostly done with my report, so… Thanks for giving them to me.”

“I’m glad to be able to help,” he says. Then he walks back to his office.

You’re standing in front of the bathroom for what’s surely an odd amount of time. Even back at your desk, you can’t shake the haze you feel, a pink tint to your vision, a flutter in your gut.

You spend the rest of your day with your nose buried in the collar of Hotch’s shirt, avoiding the gazes of your coworkers around you.

Aaron spends the rest of the day thinking about how you looked in his shirt. About how you’d look in it and nothing else. He drags a hand over his face when that pops into his head.

“You good, boss?” Morgan asks from the doorway.

“I’m fine.” He doesn’t miss the knowing smirk on Morgan’s face.

-

It’s very rare that Aaron leaves work at a reasonable time. So rare that he can’t remember the last time he wasn’t the last person there.

He’s used to the late nights, the empty spaces, deserted desks. Even so, it’s nice to finish up earlier than he’d expected. He looks forward to the extra sleep he’ll get, the longer time frame to decompress.

Leaving work early already felt like a small victory for the day, and he feels like he’s won something bigger when he sees you in your car, still in the parking lot.

You’d left maybe twenty minutes before Hotch, though you’d assumed he’d be leaving hours after you like he usually does. Everything was fine, normal as you bid your goodbyes to your desk neighbors, as you rode the elevator down.

The sun has started setting, and the air gets cooler as it sinks. You fish your car keys from your bag and unlock it, getting in quickly and tossing your bag onto the passenger seat.

You like your job, sometimes you love it, even, but you look forward to going home either way. You think about the warm shower you’ll take, the shitty dinner you’ll end up eating. Your lonely plans are ruined as you twist your car key in the ignition, it sputters and doesn’t start.

“No, no. Come on,” your head falls back, you huff and take the key out.

You try again, and still, no luck. And again, and once more until you’re fed up with it and drop the keys in your lap. Your head is dropped against the steering wheel, allowing yourself a moment of dramatics from your defeat.

A knock on your window startles you upright. Your heart races for reasons other than fear when you look at who it is.

Hotch stands outside, leaning towards your window with a scrunch in his brows. When he catches your eye, he steps back from your door and gives you room to open it and step out.

You shut your car door behind you and lean your back against it, “hi.”

“Hi. Sorry to scare you, but I wanted to check that you were alright?”

“It’s okay,” your arms are folded behind your back, your hands twisting. “Um, it’s nothing, just some car troubles.”

“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“I guess not. It won’t start for some reason. I don’t know.” If he wasn’t standing right there, you’d probably smack yourself for how unsure you sound. “You keep catching me at the worst times, Hotch.”

He disagrees. Aaron can’t think of a time where seeing you could ever be a bad thing.

“You’re fine,” he says, his voice suddenly softer, “trust me.”

Despite the bite of the wind outside, the way he speaks warms you. He’s so honest in the way he speaks, in the sense that he sounds sure, even if it isn’t necessarily vulnerable. You don’t know how he does it.

A small smile spreads on your face before you can stop it, “okay, good. And thank you for checking on me. I’ll just call a cab and figure this out tomorrow.”

There’s no way he can let you take a cab. It’s obvious that with what he does, the things he sees, he’d rather know for sure you’d be safe getting home. But then, there’s the sort of floating feeling he has when he’s around you, one he’d like to feel for a little longer if he could.

“Let me drive you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, really. I’ll be fine.”

He ducks his head a little, catches your eye and holds you with that soft gaze of his. “Please, it’s not a problem. For my peace of mind.”

It doesn’t take much convincing, really. You’d much rather sit in a car that probably smells like him than in the back of a cab that smells like sweat.

“For your peace of mind, then. That’d be great.”

You grab your bag from your car before following Aaron to his, where he opens the passenger door for you and makes sure your legs are tucked inside before shutting it. He jogs around the front of his car and gets in.

“Where am I taking you?” He asks, starting his car. The radio hums softly through the speakers, and Hotch reaches over to turn on the heating when he catches you shivering a little.

You tell him your address, “you don’t have to drive me if it’s out of your way, Hotch. I mean it.”

“It isn’t out of my way,” he assures you, and he could easily be lying, but you accept it anyway.

It’s quiet for a little bit, besides the odd question from Aaron for which way to turn. You take the chance to look at him as he drives, his hands on the wheel, the street lights hitting his face. Your head lulls against the seat.

“You’re finished earlier than usual today,” you say. “Not that I know your schedule, or anything, I just-”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, a smile spreading. It’s wider than what you’ve seen at work, unguarded enough to show his teeth. It’s really pretty. “It’s alright. It’s work I can be doing at home.”

“That’s good. A change of scenery, at least.”

“Exactly.”

You’re not sure what it is that feels different now, in the car. Maybe it’s because it’s only you and him, no prying eyes in the office, no concerns about what this is, what’s allowed. It might only be you, that feels this sort of spark with him, fizzing i’m the air between you. Either way, you’ll soak it up for the duration of the ride to yours.

Maybe that’s why you’re saying, “you know, I always thought you didn’t even know who I was. Until the printer thing.”

Aaron peeks over at you, leaned in his passenger seat. You look like you belong there, like there’s always been a spot for you in his life. Even when you’d started at the BAU, when he first saw you, he felt like it was right that you were there.

Hell, he’d asked Garcia who you were and has had your name in the back of his head since.

“I’ve always liked you,” he admits. He doesn’t say he’s always known you. Liked.

“Really?” You can’t help but ask. Someone like him even noticing you seemed unfathomable. But liking you? He’s gotta be lying.

“Really. Even when you were bumping into me.”

“You remember that?”

“Yeah, I do. You were looking down at the ground, walking like you were being timed. And you had on this light pink sweater.”

Your eyes go wide, focused on his face. You had been wearing a light pink sweater that day. And he remembers all of that? You think, if you looked at yourself in the mirror right now, your eyes would be in the shape of hearts, pulsing in your pupils.

“I can’t believe you noticed all of that.”

“I notice a lot of things,” he says.

Aaron has always had his guard up around new people, has always made himself more serious at work than anywhere else. Then you came along and he had to fight to keep things that way. It makes sense that the minute he sees you outside of work his walls would crumble to dust.

It was inevitable, really.

“I’ve always liked you, too.” Then, before he can say anything, you point at your building, “it’s this one here.”

The car rolls to a stop slowly, his turn signal flashing as he pulls over by the entrance of your apartment building. He puts the car in park and turns to you fully.

“Thank you for driving me.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

His hand reaches out before he can really think about it, fingertips featherlight over your cheekbone, sliding over to tuck your hair behind your ear. Then, like it was never there, he pulls back. There’s a glow in his fingers where they’d brushed your skin, golden.

It matches the one you feel on your cheek, sparkling.

“Get in safe, okay?”

“It’s a few feet from here to the front door, Hotch. I’ll be alright.”

He huffs softly, twin smiles on your faces. Lovesick and shy, nervous and pink-hazed all at once.

“For my peace of mind,” he says.

“Fine, then. Your peace of mind,” you reach for the door handle, tugging it and pushing the door open. You look at Hotch again, like you can’t get yourself to stop. “Thanks again.”

“See you, sweetheart.”

“Bye.”

You step out and head to your door, turning around before walking inside to give him a wave. Aaron grins and waves back, watching you walk inside.

He stays parked by the curb until he sees a light flick on a couple of floors up.

-

+1

There’s a reason that Hotch is Unit Chief. He thinks quickly, keeps his head straight even with what he deals with every day. There’s also a reason his leadership has been questioned before, but never revoked.

He can be reckless, throwing himself into situations when he knows he probably should’ve waited for backup. This time, it only got him a split eyebrow and a few stitches. It’s been worse; this is nothing.

It is, however, proving to be an inconvenience. He’d gotten stitched up in the ER of whatever hospital was closest to where the team had caught their unsub. It had to be quick, from the hospital straight to the jet.

They’d told him to clean it up again and put a new bandage on it when he got back, which is what he’s trying to do now, in his office, with his laptop’s grainy camera as a mirror. He has the supplies the hospital gave him on his desk, but he can’t really see what he’s doing, and the task is taking much longer than he’d like.

His hands are a little shaky from the adrenaline of his day, and every time his arm comes up to reach his stitches, it blocks his view.

Then, he sees you walking up to his office.

Usually, you’d already be home by now, but you’d been yourself and messed up some of your paperwork, so you had to stay late to re-do it. When you catch sight of Hotch in his office, you’re not so annoyed with yourself.

You notice the things on his desk, the blood on the front of his shirt. Your feet carry you to his doorway easily. Last time you’d really spoken to him was that night in his car, and ever since, there’s been something boiling, a noticeable shift.

You tap your knuckles on his open door twice, “you okay?”

He gives up on dealing with his cut and looks at you instead, the slightly rumpled state of your clothes from a long day, the smile you wear that doesn’t exactly hide the concern in your eyes, the light from the hallway a halo around you. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m alright. Just can't seem to do this right,” he says, gesturing to his eyebrow.

“Do you need help?”

Aaron has never been one to accept help easily, always one to do things on his own. But, when you’re offering so sweetly, when your help means your hands on his skin, how could he ever say no?

“That would be great.”

He pushes his chair back to give you room to stand in front of him. Your legs between his, leaning against the edge of his desk. His knees bump into the sides of your legs, little bursts of the kind of warmth sunlight emits on skin.

You reach for the wipes first, holding them in one hand and reaching up to his eyebrow, the other grasping his chin gently to keep his head steady.

His hand reaches up to hold your elbow. It could so easily be innocent, be almost nothing, but it feels like more. His thumb running back and forth, your face close enough to his to have your breaths mingling. It really feels like more.

“You’re here late,” he says, low and quiet.

“Spilled coffee all over my work. Had to start over. Can you believe it?” You speak just as quietly, eyes flicking from his cut down to his, just for a second.

“I can, actually. You’re sort of clumsy.”

“Hey!” He’s right, of course, but the warm chuckle he lets out is worth your dramatic gasp.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he assures you, squeezing your elbow. “I think it’s cute.”

“Well, thank you, then.”

You set the wipe aside and reach for the bandage next, placing it over his eyebrow and smoothing down the edges with a light touch. When you’re done, you pull back but don’t go far. Your hands fall from his face to grasp the edge of his desk instead.

“All done,” you say.

Aaron’s hands have shifted to your waist. His touch is so delicate, but you’d never ignore it. It might as well be bruising, the way his hands affect you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Hotch.”

Now would be the time to walk out the door, to say ‘goodnight’ and head home, but you’re in no hurry. Not when his eyes are shining in the dimmed light of his office, soft and practically melting.

They seem to beckon you closer, and though you don’t have a reason this time, your face ends up near his, noses almost touching. It’s as far as you go, afraid you’re misreading things, afraid you’ll be wrong about this.

Hotch closes the space for you.

His chin tilts up, his mouth catching yours softly at first. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips slightly chapped and completely perfect against yours.

You think your knees might buckle, so you put your hands on his shoulders, thumbs digging into his skin, like you’re trying to make sure he’s real. You’re not sure how you manage to kiss him back but you do, and you hear the sharp intake of breath he takes when you push back.

The kiss doesn’t deepen, but it doesn’t have to. You can feel plenty in it already.

It’s not long before Hotch pulls away, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head to look up at you. He removes one of your hands from his shoulder and holds it in his.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” he says, his thumb running over your knuckles.

You look down at your feet, at his legs next to yours. The hand still on his shoulder falls to your side, suddenly feeling nervous.

“You’re right, I’m so-”

“But,” he stops your apology before you can say it. As if you’d ever need to apologize for kissing him. “I’d like to take you to dinner sometime. If you’d want that.”

You look back at his face, eyes searching. He smiles so softly at you, it’s the kind of smile you could only ever give someone you like in this way. Someone you like enough to kiss.

“I’d really like that, Hotch.”

“Good,” he stands, but his hands don’t leave you. “And sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Call me Aaron.”

When you test it out, he’s sure of it; his name on your lips is his absolute favorite sound.

༄

thank you so much for reading!!! please please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, it helps a whole bunch more than you’d think and would mean a lot!! <3

[hyunebunx]

saw the soft thoughts post and i hope i’m not late >.< please forgive my typos or grammatical errors love i just woke up 🥹

soooo imagine a lazy saturday morning with hyunjin where you both just wanted to sleep in and cuddle on your shared bet until late in the morning. apparently you had to force yourself to get up because you were getting hungry and hyunjin—being a clingy boyfriend—is sticking to you like glue, and be like “noooooo don’t go!!!” because he doesn’t want to get out of bed but you had to drag him up. he became a pouty baby while being clingyyyy maybe a backhug when you were cooking, a stolen kiss when you were about to eat, helping you wash the dishes but he put some soap bubbles on the tip of your nose, asked you to go out and the spend the rest of the day with him outside maybe stroll around the city, an art museum date, go to a café and watch him sketch/paint you~

ughh to be loved by an artist bro i’m still half asleep so i hope i’m making sense... anyway have a good one deni ! 😽🩷

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff and a loooot of kissing, you've been warned lol

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: my love <3 this is the cutest idea ever!! thank you so so much for trusting me to write it hehe <3 listen, this got quite steamy in the middle, idk what happened i blacked out fgsdgkj can't help myself when it comes to this man apparently. anywayss, hope you'll enjoy it <333

Mornings spent sleeping in with the love of your life, all cuddle up and intertwined, were truly your absolute favorite, a blessing you didn’t take for granted. You were both busy people, with busy lives that accommodated one another like it was the most natural thing in the world, fitting together like the last two pieces needed to complete the puzzle which revealed your love story.

Hyunjin was a heavy sleeper, clinging to every thread, no matter how thin, that transported him to dreamland to rest a little more. Just five more minutes, that turned into ten, fifteen, which ended up stretching into half an hour on good days. On the bad ones, when he was more tired than usual, nothing could get Hyunjin out of bed before the afternoon rolled around. You understood – he needed his rest – but it didn’t make missing him and his bright smile any easier.

You never knew you could miss someone even while they were dozing off next to you, blissfully unaware of how your heart almost jumped out of your chest to slip under his shirt just to feel his beating, desperately searching for confirmation he felt the same. And he did, of course he did, how could he not when your name and sweet face were constantly spinning around in his mind like some sort of live wallpaper, making him unable to concentrate even on simple tasks?

Though right now, neither of you was sleeping, cuddling to Hyunjin’s chest with one leg over his lap as you caught him up on the latest work gossip. You’ve been awake for almost two hours now and for once, the universe seemed to be on your side as no sunray managed to peek through the small crack left in the curtains, allowing you to continue lying around in peace.

“Anyway, so the printer caught on fire and that was Kim’s last straw. She threw all the papers on the floor and then proceeded to plop down on them and cry. I felt so bad.”

Despite his empathetic nature, Hyunjin lets out a short laugh, voice still husky and laced with sleep as his fingers tangled in your hair. “How did she even manage to do that?”

“It wasn’t her fault.” You yawn, hiding your face in his chest briefly. “Jay used the printer last to scan pictures of his cat’s toe beans and I guess some fur got stuck in there and ruined everything.”

He slowly shakes his head, whistling. “See, that’s why I’m a dog person.”

Prompting your chin on his chest, you look at him with raised eyebrows. “Ok Mr. meows at cats because he wants to get into their good graces.”

“That was one time!”

You giggle and he joins soon after, staring deeply into your eyes until the laughter dies down and every thought leaves your mind like it wasn’t even there to begin with. Dark eyes dart between yours and your lips, subconsciously licking his plush bottom one and telling you exactly where his train of thought has stopped. Patience was not one of Hyunjin’s virtues, so the hand in your hair moves lower to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as you quickly adjust, both hands sprawling on his chest to help you lean down and finally connect your lips.

The kiss is slow, lips merging perfectly as neither of you is in any rush, content to take the time to taste each other. However, it quickly gets messy, tongues meeting and complicating the familiar dance, making it hot and breathy but oh so delicious. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you’ve been waiting for this ever since he woke up, constantly thinking about his rosy lips and driving yourself crazy as whatever he was saying faded in and out of hazy memory.

Hyunjin kissed you like no other, like kissing was an art he invented just to practice on you. One he managed to master throughout the years of your relationship but couldn’t get enough of, obsessed with the idea of improving and finding another unexplored corner he could take over and claim as his own.

A cold hand slides easily under your top, gripping at your waist in an effort to bring you closer, almost causing your arms to give out. You break away from the kiss and Hyunjin whines, displeased but still helps you settle on top of him more comfortably, guiding your body as you straddle his hips.

This new position allows for better access to what you’re both desiring, with Hyunjin wasting no more time in bringing you back down again, capturing your lips. With both hands on exposed thighs, the shirt he gave you to sleep in barely covering anything, Hyunjin loses himself in the taste of you, licking into your mouth and lightly biting on your bottom lip as your hands move lower over his stomach, needing to discard him of the annoying clothing.

You make to pull away but his lips follow, causing him to sit up and move one of his hands on the small of your back for support, not allowing you to slip away from him. With a mind of their own, your hands quickly abandon his shirt and move around his shoulders, meeting at his nape to deepen the kiss and lick at his bottom lip which he appreciates by the groan he lets out.

You feel him everywhere, hands groping and squeezing every bit of your body in the exact way he knew you loved, turning you to putty into his hold. By now, his dark hair is a mess from all the pulling – your fingers needed something to anchor onto.

“Hyun.” You inhale deeply, his lips moving down your jaw, restless.

“Yeah, baby?” He mumbles, barely hearing you.

“Breakfast.” You gasp out as he lightly bites the skin, quick to soothe it with his tongue. “I’m hungry.” Mostly true, you’ve been lying here for hours after all, who wouldn’t be hungry? But also because you knew if you didn’t stop him now, neither of you would get to eat anything before dinner time rolls around.

Hyunjin pauses, hot breath fanning your neck as he slowly tilts his head to look at you, his wet and swollen lips distracting. He’s speechless for a moment, almost like he can’t believe you interrupted him, like a child whose favorite toy is abruptly taken away. When it clicks in his head you are actually serious, Hyunjin barely registers the way you peck his lips as he rolls his eyes.

“Wow, ok connoisseur of romance. What a way to ruin the moment.”

You giggle as he gently lays you down on your back, knowing he could never be truly upset, no matter what kind of stunt you pull. He was most likely thankful you said something, surely hungry himself.

Scooting towards the end of the bed, your feet barely get to touch the hardwood floor before Hyunjin’s arms circle your middle once again, pulling you to his warm chest without a word.

“No, don’t go!” He whines, burring his head in your shoulder in protest.

Your heart squeezes in your chest, pounding from all the love you carried for your other half, the man you couldn’t imagine life without.

“Baby.” You coo, softly running your fingers over his hands on your stomach in a way to coax him. “How am I supposed to cook us breakfast otherwise?”

Hyunjin sighs, squeezing you to his chest for two more heartbeats before releasing his hold and allowing you to stand up. When you turn to face him, one of his big hands has already brought yours to his lips to plant a feather like kiss on your knuckles.

“Don’t go without me.” He mumbles, pouting slightly, and you almost explode like a piñata, staining him with your love and adoration that will surely trap him in this apartment for days trying to get it out. Not like he’d ever mind if that were possible, proudly showing off and talking about your feelings for him to anyone who’d listen, right after talking their ear off about the love he holds for you.

So, that morning, you waddle together to the kitchen like two penguins with Hyunjin refusing to stop hugging you from behind even when you started cooking. And after that, spoon feeding you on the counter and forgetting all about his needs until you threatened to take away his cuddles.

He caved in immediately.

[luveline]

yess i’m always up for roan fics!

roan struggling with math homework and eddie trying to help her and after a while he’s like….. 🤔😦 “go ask mom”. idk i think that’s rlly cute lol

“Dad.” 

Eddie leans in toward the cutlery he’s washing, nose wrinkled, a look of loving disgust on his face as the music turns to a grizzly guitar and drum mashing that Roan winces at. 

“Dad.” She pokes his leg. “Daddy, stop rocking.” 

Eddie rinses the cutlery off and shoves it on the drying rack. He turns the faucet off, which helps. Water drips from his hand as he turns down the radio. “Sorry, bub. What’s up?” 

“Can you help?” 

“I can always help you. With what?” 

“Homework.” 

He sighs. “I knew this day would come.” 

Eddie’s not stupid, he can do the same math a five year old can, but he just doesn’t understand the question. Jessica has apples and Leslie has pears and hiding his frown in Roan’s hair doesn’t work. “I can feel you being grumpy,” she says. 

“Not grumpy, babe, just stupid.” He frowns again. “You’re gonna havta go ask mom, I think.” He squints at the question. “What does that even mean?” 

Roan sighs and slinks of off the chair. She runs upstairs in a thunder of footsteps. Eddie can hear the door to the bedroom creaking, and Roan’s frustration. “Can you please come help me?” 

“With what? I’m doing laundry.” 

“I can’t do my math homework. Daddy can’t do it.” 

“Oh, okay. Sure, princess, I’ll come and help. Pull me up?” 

There’s some grunting and shouting. “I’m too small!” Roan says. 

“Oh, fine.” 

“Carry me?” 

“No! Come on, I hurt my back yesterday, you’ll have to hold my hand.” 

You and Roan walk down the stairs together, passing through the kitchen doorway hand in hand. He gives you a sorry smile. 

“Couldn’t crack it, Munson?” 

He can take all your teasing because it ends up like this, with the radio back on, the three of you huddled around a piece of printer paper with matching grimaces. You rub the skin between your eyes, Eddie laughs, and Roan looks back at you both, her grimace falling away. 

“What?” Eddie asks. 

“Can we give up?” she asks. “I wanna watch a movie.” 

“We can do this,” you say. You erase the notes you’d been writing with the pencil topper with your tongue poking out from between your lips as you start again. You write something, scribble it out, write something else, your nose listing forward toward the paper. 

“It’s okay, babe, we’ll just write a note for Mrs. Lundy that we didn’t get it,” Eddie says, reaching down to feel the fat and soft of your shoulder in his fingers. He loves that you care so much, but he’s done with apples and pears for the night. 

“Maybe it’s a trick question?” Roan suggests. 

Your shoulder relaxes in his hand. “You think so?” You can’t sound more in love with her, placing an arm around her tummy to lock her in. 

“Yeah, like, there’s no right answer!” Roan says. 

You wrap one of her curls around your finger and tug gently. “I think you’re right.” 

Eddie knows what you’re thinking. He presses a kiss to the side of your forehead, and, while you and Roan are distracted, he puts his hand on top of the homework sheet and slides it as far away from you all as possible. 

“What kind of popcorn do you want for your movie, macaroni?” Eddie asks. 

“I don’t know,” she whines. “Ask mom.” 

[credince--writes]

Scary Dog

You need a new printer. Sometimes you need to bring negotiation aids.

Useless, shitty little one-shot because I need something else to work on.

Konig x Medic!Reader

Scary dog privileges

Your pen tapped against the desk you sat at. The smell of sanitizer and printer ink was fresh on your nose.

And, well your skin too.

That goddamn printer, it was always breaking, half of the time you thought it would just catch fire.

It would be easier that way if it just did, then you'd be able to get a new one.

But, alas, you weren't the head bitch of the armed-with-alcohol-pads crew. That lovely position was reserved by Lud.

All the other doctors lovingly refer to him as Dud.

Because that is what he is.

A Dud.

A lazy, selfish, piece of-

You were getting sidetracked.

He would always deny your requests for a new printer, and at this point, it was a hindrance to your job.

The black ink splattered all over you, staining your shirt and skin was proof of that.

You prided yourself in your work,

your efficiency.

Your ability to get the things others couldn't get done, done.

Just so happened that because of this, you got the....

How could you phrase it?

Well,

you got the scary dogs.

They were big, and they looked mean as hell.

But all it took was a threatening glance and they were rolling over showing their soft puppy bellies to her.

Maybe it was the dum dums you brought back from America to give them as a treat for being a good patient.

"That's it!" You slapped your hands on your desk, throwing the muddled papers scatted across the floor as you swiped your arms across the desk.

All of the papers were useless, all thanks to that fucking printer.

Stomping out of your little office, you made your way through the hallway and into the main living space for the team.

"I need a dog!" You yell, catching everyone in the space's attention.

"What?" One of the men ask.

You promptly ignore him, scanning the room and walking- angrily - might you add to find the perfect scary dog.

"A big- scary fucking dog!" You flail your arms in the air.

And your eyes landed on him.

Oh.

He'd do.

He'd do just fine.

"König." You call out, sickly sweet.

He was already staring at you, giving you a cautious glance.

"Did you fight an octopus, doctor?" He asks.

His accent, it was thick.

Just like the rest of him, you suppose.

Music to your ears.

"Would you please accompany me to Doctor Dud?"

He stands, lifting his body to its natural heigh, towering above you.

Perfect.

"Is everything alright?"

"I just need you... to be my big scary dog." You smile.

That smile could make him do horrible things.

"Uh...?" He asks, confused.

"Be intimidating. Be my persuasion, can you do that for me? Please König?" You bat your eyelashes- not too much. A subtle blink or so.

His name falling off your lips.

He had to catch himself for falling forward as he zoned out, looking down at you as you so sweetly begged for his presence.

"Of course." He nodded.

"Great!" You grinned, that evil toothy Cheshire smile.

Pulling him along- not this his long stride took up two of yours- you stood outside of Dud's office. Knocking on the door twice, you pushed the door open and made eye contact with him.

He never really took the time to work with the special teams.

They were a little rowdy for him.

"What do I owe the pleasure....." His voice trailed off, looking up and meeting the narrow, deadly gaze of König.

"Oh, I think the printer is on the fritz again!" You laughed lightly, innocently.

Oh, how evil.

"... I can see that." He said.

"I think it would be best if I just got the new printer." You said, tilting your head to the side. "You see, König was in my office but he can't go about his day until his paperwork gets finished!" You laughed.

"Well... I don't think a new one is in the cards right now-"

"Oh no!" You fake pouted. "I'd hate to cause your mission to delay König." She glances up at him.

His eyes were fixed on Dud.

His presence loomed.

It was as if he sucked the heat from the room, leaving the air in a suffocating freeze.

"Oh- well-" Dud stammers.

"We wouldn't want to cause any inconveniences to König here, would we?" You ask innocently.

Dud swears that a red glint flashes in König's eyes.

"Of course not!" He all but heaves out, sweat collecting on his brow.

"So, new printer?" You ask happily.

"I'll have it brought down right away."

"Great!" You smile, turn, and quickly walk out of the door.

König doesn't move, opting to leave an impression by standing there in silence a few seconds longer, staring into his soul.

"König!" You call.

His head snaps back, releasing him from his trance. He spins on his heel and quickly exits the room, tailing you.

Man, maybe next you could get new linens!

[alllgator-blood]

I have ten billion WIP sketches I need to finish, but for some reason I stayed up from 9 PM to 4 AM conceptualizing, making patterns, sewing, painting and applying makeup on this stupid fucking felt squid......the detailing needs to be cleaned up cause there's only one coat of paint so far, but he's pretty much done

my neighbors probably think I'm insane because I was running around the yard clenching this toy kallamar in a death grip and flying him around like an airplane/putting him in the barbecue/poking him with a stick. I want to tie him to a string and recreate the opening of napoleon dynamite >:) ALSO I MADE HIM SMOKE OUT OF A STUPID CRYSTAL PIPE BUT PLEASE DON'T ACTUALLY USE THOSE, THEY ARE SUPER TOXIC LMAO MINE IS FOR DECORATION

I don't have any process pics because I had tunnel vision autism style and forgot the rest of the universe existed while I was working on him. BUT if you're curious I'll ramble below the cut

Okay I am not a seamstress by any means. I've sewn my entire life but very, very infrequently. I've done plushies, clothes, cosplays, fursuits, accessories, etc. but I only do one like once a year, so while I planned to make all 5 bishops, I'm not really sure I'll get them all done. The material cost was like 20 bucks tops so I'm not too upset if I don't finish them. I AT LEAST WANT TO GET SHAMURA OR HEKET DONE.

here is the concept sketch ft. heket's toes and shamura's fingers. I decided to do his pre-schism version so I could fit him with jewelry! I did him first because like I said I sew infrequently and don't know wtf I'm doing, everyone else seemed a lot more complicated.

So I basically just traced this drawing on a printer paper-sized canvas in SAI, and guesstimated how everything would look in a 3D space. His head is four pieces, one triangle identical to the one in the picture, two wide triangles that are sewn together in the back, and a circle for his chin. You can't really see it in any of the pics but he's literally like a black cylindrical stick with little tentacles sewn on where his mantle connects to his cloak. The leg tentacles are one piece of felt that look like tassels, where they're connected by a rectangle but branch off into individual pieces. He can't stand up very well, so his cape keeps him up (that's gonna be an issue for every other bishop too except heket cause she's gonna be ROUND). Mostly everything like the crown, cloak, head, etc. are cones so I just had to make a lot of wide triangles.

For the details, I just used acrylic paint that was watered down so he's not especially crunchy, and for the blush tone I used a makeup palette my mom bought me 10 years ago in hopes I'd get in touch with my "feminine side", but I grew up into a nonbinary butch lesbian so OOPS. Kallamar looks better with makeup than me anyway. I'm kinda sad I couldn't get his freckles as lopsided as I draw them but it probably looks better in plush form to have them even anyway....

I could just post the pattern so I don't have to explain this but 1. I am mentally ill about the thought of my kallamar being in someone else's house and 2. the original pattern had to be tweaked while I was working on him so the final pattern straight up doesn't exist, I winged it the whole time

OH and the jewelry is just scrap pieces I had laying around, I might repaint it all to be gold instead of silver + bronze. I used 20g aluminum wire for his armlet thing, jumper rings for his earrings + ring (+ a diamond dot from my mom's kits for the gem) and chain for the bracelet. I made him an amulet as well but it felt like overkill so I took it off. I'm probably gonna make him a plague doctor mask and medicine bag sometime because I think about nurse kallamar more than I probably should :') I've already sewn one as a prop for a toy raven before so it shouldn't be too hard

[the-softest-love-is-ours]

Idk if this’ll help anyone or if these are even good… just thought of stuff self shipper could do, I guess.

Anywho, here’s a list of things yo,u as a self shipper, can do for fun.

(This will be added onto with time)

Proship/Comship/Anti-Antis DNI

Play Tomodachi Life, make yourself, your main F/O, and then a bunch of family and friends and see how the shenanigans play out.

Play Sims (my choice is 4, but any one will work), same as before but this time you have mods and can control you and your F/O’s however you please.

Make kandi jewelry for each of your F/O’s, whether it’s a bracelet with their name or just a necklace with a color scheme you think fits them.

Purchase something custom from etsy and/or fiverr. These can be care packages, letters, plushies, art pieces, fanfics, maybe you could find someone who does RP asmrs, and my personal favorites an RP or an annotated book.

Look on youtube for asmrs, whether they’re RP, sleeping beside or those muffled playlist scenarios.

For those of is that are age regressor, make a custom deco paci based on your F/O.

Credits to @myselfshipdiary for this one, make a Pinterest board. They can feature fanart, aesthetic images or heck maybe recipes you would cook for them and memes you would show them.

If you have the skills, or heck even if you don’t (life’s too short, try everything, learn new skills), design something based on them. A dress, a cake, a room, a candy platter, a party, an outfit, a plushie, literally anything!

Make a breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner you think they would like! Maybe if you bring your lunch to work, make a bento for yourself that you would send to work with them.

Go on to your online shopping sites and make wishlists of thing you’d think they would want/like.

Do some research on perfume/cologne, and either track down or commission one you think they’d wear. You can do the same for all necessary toiletries if you’d like to take it a step further.

Play around on spotify (or your music service of choice) and make playlists for various scenarios.

Piggybacking of the last one, find a song that you would make their ringtone and think of what their contact name would be in your phone.

Pick out a ring you think would be the engagement/wedding ring they would give you.

Make paper doll's of you/ your self insert and your f/os) along with attachable paper clothes!

If you have access to a printer and a blank notebook/sketchbook along with some glue, you can make a scrapbook with pictures of your f/o(s)! You can also add drawings you made and anything like stickers, washi tape, etc.

This one is digital, edit a transparent of your f/os) into a selfie of yours to make a couples photo! You can print it out and put it in a frame. Also, Dollar Tree sells frames that you can also paint, put stickers on, anything!

There is an app called Social Dummy, create a social media world with you and all your F/O’s on it!

Make perler bead pixel art of your f/o.

[noosayog]

[parking ticket] ft. sawamura daichi 

wc: 1k

contents/warnings: fem! reader, reader is referred to as ma’am, timeskip characters. for the sake of story, let’s pretend the Miyagi prefecture parking rules go by the same ones in the States but Daichi is not an American cop because acab till I die!! 

A flash of light catches your attention when you look up from your phone from inside your car. By meter for the spot you’re currently parked in, is a cop who is tapping away at his little device, looking between his device, your car, and the meter that is currently flashing red. 

“Wait!” you say frantically, exiting your car. 

The cop looks up. When you meet his eyes previously hidden by his cap, they linger a bit on you before he levels you with an unimpressed look. 

“I just got here! I was planning on paying.” 

“Ma’am, I saw you pull into this spot before I circled around the block. And now, it’s still not paid.” 

You cringe. When you had pulled into the spot, 10 minutes early for your scheduled manicure appointment, you figured you could just kill time in the car. You were scrolling through your instagram feed, looking for nail inspo when you noticed the cop. 

“I was in an important call!” you fib. 

The cop puts his device down, and props his hands on his hips. You inappropriately take note of his broad shoulders and square jawline. His unimpressed gaze remains as he tightens his jaw. 

“You could have just paid the meter then went on with your call.” 

“It really was important! So important that I needed to get on the call the second I parked.” 

He picks up his device and continues tapping, eyes now darting down to your license plate. 

“Please, please! I swear, I plan on paying! It was just a couple of minutes,” you beg. 

Tap, tap. The device spits out a little piece of paper and he rips it from the jagged teeth of the mini printer. 

“Fine!” you say, storming over to where he’s standing. You quickly insert some coins into the meter, jabbing them in with your thumb for good measure. “I was on a call with the hospital because I just found out my grandma has stage four metastatic breast cancer, so if that warrants a ticket, then leave it on my dash, asshole!” 

With that, you walk swiftly away, both frustrated and impressed with your own quick thinking. 

You’re pleased to find that after your manicure, there is no ticket on your dash. 

You squash down the slight guilt you feel when you instead see a little note with a simple “sorry about your Grandmother” scribbled on. 

– 

It’s a couple weeks later when you revisit the nail salon for some regular upkeep. You pull into a spot and quickly exit your vehicle to feed the meter. You didn’t want to take your chances in this same area, knowing there’s potential for a certain cop to be patrolling. You’re waiting at an intersection when a tap on your shoulder gets your attention. 

Turning around, you find yourself not surprised to come face to face with the same handsome cop as the other day. 

“Hey, nice to see you again,” he says. 

“Oh, hi. Yes,” you nod pleasantly. 

He takes off his police cap and tucks it neatly between his arms and torso. Even with his face half covered, you knew he would be nice to look at, but with his cap off, you get a full view of his gentle brown eyes and cropped black hair. 

“How’s your grandma? I’m sorry I was being such a hardass that day.” He rubs sheepishly at the back of his neck with his free hand. 

“Oh,” you smile a bit. “She’s fine. I lied so you wouldn’t give me a ticket,” you say breezily. 

The light at the intersection turns green. 

“See ya around!” you wave and start walking. 

You get a couple of feet before the officer falls into step with you. 

“Hold on a sec. Are you saying your grandmother doesn’t actually have cancer?”

“Nope.” 

“First of all, you shouldn’t go around lying about stuff like that, what if you speak it into existence?” 

You shrug, “both my grandmothers are already dead, so…” 

“Oh…” he says awkwardly. “Sorry to hear that.” 

You laugh again at his shifty eyes. 

“What’s the second thing?” you ask. 

“Hm?”

The two of you continue your leisurely stroll, side-by-side. You’ve already passed your salon, but you figure another lap wouldn’t hurt. 

“You said ‘first of all.’ What’s second?” 

“Ah,” he nods, sticking his hands in his pocket, relaxing his gait. “Second of all, why would you tell me you lied? I still have your license plate.” 

“Well,” you pretend to ponder, a mischievous smile growing. “Are you going to give me a ticket, officer?” 

He smiles too. “Depends. You might have to pay me back in some other ways.” 

“That sounds oddly inappropriate given your position in law enforcement,” you joke. 

“How about a date?” 

You startle a bit, not expecting a straight shot from someone who seems very, well, reserved. 

“You don’t even know my name,” you qualify. 

“I do. I looked up your registration.” 

You stop to face him, mentally noting the number on his badge. There, if he was creepy or weird, you could report him or something. 

“I'm free tomorrow night?” 

“Perfect, pick you up at 7?”

“You don’t even-” 

“I know where you live. Registration, remember?” 

“This feels like a misuse of government resources.” 

He leans in a bit, close enough for you to feel his minty breath on your cheeks. “May I?” he whispers.

Dazzled, you nod. 

He gives you the lightest kiss on your cheek, before taking one large, respectable step away. “My name is Sawamura Daichi. I promise I won’t do anything weird with your information unless you deserve another parking ticket in the future.” 

“Hey!” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,” he says, fixing his cap back on his head and giving you a cute little salute before walking back the direction he came from.

[cocomanga]

To DeServe You. - Ch.01

Pairing: Choso Camo x Fem!Reader,

CW: JJK AU, Angst, Good Boy Kink, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral, BDSM, Unprotected Sex, Edging, Drunk Sex, Aggressive Sex, Overstimulation, Yan(dear)y Choso🖤

Note: please block me if my work is not your cup-o-tea. I do not own any of the character art. Please respect my blog art.

Total WC : 9.6K

TDY Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Playlist

Synopsis: Reader is working hard, meeting new people in a new town, and runs into someone she never thought she'd see again. After she left an impression on him that he never forgot, he vows to do anything he can to solidify a connection between them that will cause her to stay by his side for good.

So.... OMG y'all... I decided to just let it go. lol I would have edited, and edited, and edited until I made myself an entirely different story😩 I hope you guys enjoy. 😊

..... Minors: You have no business here. Love you, but please don't ....

▶TDY Playlist

Ch.01 - Unexpected

↞ ··· ↠

There he was again. 

That guy, “Mr. Kamo,” in the same spot. 

Curiosity bloomed more inside you every time you walked by and saw him sitting there. He sat alone, as always, nestled at a table in the corner of this fine dining restaurant.

It’s been nearly four months and he never missed an opportunity to show up, the light gleaming onto his face from his laptop as he sat comfortably in what appeared to be gray designer medical scrubs and black Pumas.

He ordered a light meal since it was late evening, just as he did every week: a Hibachi Steak appetizer, a side spinach salad, and a Hennessy XO.

He seemed to be a considerably quiet man: kept to himself, and was always polite and respectful to the staff and other customers. Yet, though the walls of the front half of the restaurant were lined with windows at each table, he made sure to sit at that one, specifically. Your table, every time he arrived.

At this point in the night your body was really starting to hurt. Two doubles, twelve hours each, and it felt like you’d been on your feet, shocking them with pressure from each step on the cement tile every second of each day.

“Girl, your table is ready to leave,” Shoko muttered, rushing past you.

“Okay, thanks! I’m bringing them their check now,” you replied with a quick huff, as you ripped the receipt from the printer at the computer and grabbed one of the puffy checkbooks from the stack next to it.

Finally, I can get out of here.

You whined to yourself as you rushed over with the thin piece of inked paper in your hand, along with the hope of receiving a fat tip.

“Hey! When do we get our dessert?!”Your customer at the last table yelled. They’d ordered it less than two minutes ago.

Two tables left in your section, and you, Shoko and Yuki were the last three on the shift. You turn to your frustrated customer, apologetic since you knew desserts were made-to-order. Like they care.

“I’m so sorry for the wait. It’ll be out in just a moment, sir,” you replied, hoping they’d calm down.

“My dude... relax. She’s working on it.” A kind and familiar voice is offered up as you set the book with the check down on the customer’s table.

You look over to see your regular, the handsome “Mr. Kamo”, addressing the customer in an attempt to correct their rude behavior.

You were surprised to hear him speak that way, since he was usually so quiet and reserved.

“That’s not my problem!” The customer griped.

“It kinda is your problem, though,” Mr. Kamo advised as he sat back in his chair, legs stretched out, feet firmly planted flat on the ground as he spoke with his hands. “You asked for a made-to-order dessert. So yeah, waiting for it to be made is part of the process, right?” He continued. 

You smirked in his direction, appreciative of him sticking up for you.

Shoko then emerges from the kitchen with his plate. You breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks,” you said gratefully as you took the plate from her hand and set it in front of the customer.

“No problem girl. Done and done,” she mumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes toward the table as she handed you a new check without the dessert on it.

“Tough night again, right?” Mr. Kamo muttered, his voice as deep and buttery as always as he tucked his signed credit card slip in his book, handing it over to you. No doubt with another large tip scribbled onto the total in chicken scratches.

“Yeah. You know how it gets around here when there’s a concert downtown. It’s always good to see you though, Mr. Kamo,” you reply, accepting the book from his outstretched hand.

“Just ‘Choso’. I’m sure we’re about the same age right?” He said, smirking as he glanced up at you from his laptop.

You’d never seen a man up close so beautiful and mysterious. His layered, jet-black hair was thick and healthy, hanging past his large eyes in long strands, the sides and back stopping just at his shoulders.

He’s pretty tall, with a perfect athletic build, solid and noticeable even with his baggy clothing. As gorgeous as he was, he had ... a scar... on his face, stretching clear across the bridge of his nose, a scar that oddly intensified his appearance, making him even more of an enigma and, somehow, even more attractive. You glanced down at his bare ring finger, wondering what his story was.

“Here you go,” you turned to slide the dessert guy’s new check to him. “Thank you so much for waiting, sir. Your dessert’s on the house. ““

He huffed as he snatched the checkbook from your hand.

You turned to see Choso glaring at the customer. If looks could kill, the guy would legitimately be dead.

Hot and protective sure is a hell of a combo. You lock eyes with Choso, flashing him a warm smile with a blush, mouthing a ‘thank you’ for helping make your night at least a little better.

A smile curled up into the corner of his full lips as he asked, “Got big plans after work?

“Uh... Well, I can’t say yet,” you reply with a sigh, “since my girls usually have what we’re doing in mind already by the time I finish my shifts.”

You shoot a quick glance up at him from the money you’re counting after you’ve pried it from the pocket of your apron, and notice he’s watching you intently with his hands interlocked in front of his mouth.

His intense gaze often puzzled you. Possibly making you a bit ... uneasy? Though, you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. He was a stunning man. And seemingly as sweet as they come, but there was something so familiar about him... A familiarity that seemed to cause a shyness to creep up into your belly in the form of butterflies.

You began folding the cash, stuffing it back into your pockets as you glanced toward him again, “My back and feet are really killing me so I may just ... go home.” You sighed as you sat down at his table, crossing your foot over your knee.

It was common for him to sit there for a bit after most of the customers had gone home. You’d make small talk with him, mostly about random nonsense, and he’d close down the place with the last stragglers, the regulars that received free drinks here and there.

As a result, you, and a few of the employees got to know him a little, though he rarely, if ever, offered much personal info about himself. Most of the time, your collective questions were met with just “yes” or “no” answers.

“You should do some stretches before you go to bed tonight,” he advised as his eyes traveled up and down your presence.

You frowned as you squeezed your foot through your non-slip shoe. “You think so? I try to do them in the mornings.” You muttered through gritted teeth as you pressed on a particularly painful area.

“That’s good too, but considering how hard you work here, and the pain you mentioned, stretching before bed will help with blood flow and relax your muscles. Might also help you get some better sleep,” he continued, observing your tired, glazed over eyes.

“Oh, okay,” you frowned, cocking your head to the side. “I hadn’t considered that, especially since I’m usually so exhausted by the time I go to bed. At that point, all I can think about is sleep...Thanks. I’ll try it tonight,” you said, as your smile spreads a little wider across your face.

If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought you’d seen him blush a bit as he averted his eyes back down toward his computer.

“So... I’ve been kinda curious about you,” you prompted, “What do you do, Choso? I see you come here in scrubs most of the time,” you inquire, genuinely interested.

“They’re actually Masseuse tunics,” he replied, glancing down at his clothes, then back up at you, resting his cheek in his hand.

Your eyes brightened at the information you’d gained, “Really? Are you a Massage Therapist?”

“Hey!” Shoko interrupted, yelling across the empty restaurant toward your table. “Are you gonna get clocked out or are you staying here to lock up?”

She turned her attention to Choso, “Mr. Kamo, we’re trying to get outta here!” She whined.

He chuckled, looking over to you. “Guess we both better go huh?”

“Yeah,” you turned back toward him with an apologetic smile as you raised your index finger to Shoko, gesturing to her to give you a minute.

Choso closed his laptop and grabbed his things from under the table. “You guys working tomorrow?” He asked, standing tall as he whipped his bag over his shoulder.

“Actually, no. Thank God,” you rolled your eyes, “I can’t imagine being here again tomorrow. I’m off from both of my jobs for the next couple days.”

“Both jobs? You have another one?” He quizzed, surprised.

“Yuuup. Well, most of us here are working toward other things. Shoko’s in medical school, Yuki’s training to be a mechanic, and I’m a social worker at a non-profit nearby.”

“Wow. That’s... amazing. And a lot,” he says with his eyebrows raised.

“Well, this place is a damn good side hustle,” you chuckled as you stood with him.

“Seems like it,” he uttered, appearing intrigued by your words as he smiled, his gaze softening. 

His anxious eyes traveled over to where Shoko stood, quickly averted to the floor, then back up to meet yours. “So... I'm uh... I'm having people over tomorrow night. You think maybe you'd wanna come by?” he offers.

Your head snapped up to face him as a wrinkle formed between your eyebrows and your lips flattened into a hard line. You slowed your pace to nearly a halt, as you walked him toward the front.  “That's different... you've never invited any of us out...”

“Yeah, I know...” he muttered shyly. “But since I've been coming here, I noticed you seem to be a pretty chill group of girls. Believe it or not, I've been wanting to for a while.”

“Really?” You asked, curious what kind of gathering he had in mind.

“Yeah. You, Shoko and Yuki,” he shrugged, “it'll be just a handful of friends. Nothing crazy. A few people, a few drinks.”

You take but a moment to deliberate. You figured you'd seen him and chatted with him more than enough times to accept his invitation, and the idea of being that much closer to him seemed to flare a spark inside you.

“Sure.” you shrugged. “Why not? I'm in. I'll ask the girls if they wanna come.”

He nods, a shy smile gracing his face, “Cool. Why don't you plug your info in my phone? We'll keep in touch.”

You paused for a moment, taken aback by the idea of exchanging info with him suddenly as he passed his unlocked phone over to you. You always wanted to, but it never dawned on you that he'd actually initiate it so casually.

“Um... Okay...” You take his phone gently and add your info, handing it back as your eyes travel up toward his face, his hooded gaze and vacant expression locked on to you as you place the device back into his hand.

Your big eyes glanced up at him and back down to the phone in intervals as your lips disappeared into your mouth and blood flooded your cheeks.

His eyes seemed to survey every one of your features before he finally spoke. “See you later then?” He asks with a subtle smirk as he moves toward the door, pressing in the golden handle to leave as he waved back toward Shoko's agitated glare.

You walked over to her with a wry smile on your face as you approached.

“What were you guys over there talking about for so long?” She asks as you follow her out the back door for her end-of-shift smoke.

“He was inviting us out tomorrow night.”

“Really?” Her face mimicked the same confusion yours did. “Out where?”

“His place, apparently,” you shrugged, shaking your head, “said he's having people over and wants us to come by.”

“Wow. Sounds cool. Seems like a great guy, too,” she lights up and takes a puff as she finds her stool she kept outside to sit on. “'Cept I think he's just trying to get you over there.”

“Huh?” You uttered, “What makes you think it's just me?”

“What do you mean?” She huffed, “He's been sitting in your section every week, consistently, for the past few months. You're telling me you haven't noticed he's into you?” She asks, as she takes another drag of her already half gone Newport.

“Oh come on. I mean, for all I know he just likes the window seat,” you shrugged. “It'd be kinda arrogant for me to assume he's just there for me.”

“Tch... How much did he tip you?” She asked, with her eyebrows raised.

“Oh, damn I didn't even see. You called me over before I could look at his check,” you dug inside your apron and grabbed the last black book you had inside and opened it.

Your lips parted slightly mimicking a jaw drop when you saw the number. “Shoko...” you said, as you looked over at her, wide-eyed.

She glanced over your shoulder at the check. “Are you kidding me?!” Shoko chuckled, nearly choking on her cigarette as she saw his tip was two-hundred dollars, on top of the mere eighty-five bucks he'd spent on food.

“What the hell?” You said, frowning as you slapped the book shut.

Shoko giggled, “That's damn near five-hundred dollars he's spent on you this month, just coming to eat at your restaurant,” she murmured.

“He tipped you too, when he first started coming here!” You whined, a poor excuse to justify your position.

“Girl, please,” he gave me like forty bucks that night, and it was only because you weren't here!” She retorted, laughing. “Meanwhile, he's made you a regular monthly expense.”

You sat there in shock, realizing she's probably right, but not understanding what the hell he's doing. “Who does this? And … If that's the case, why hasn't he just asked me out? It's been nearly four months.”

“He just did, right?”

“Yeah, but after that long? I don't get it,” you said, completely perplexed.

“Look, let's just show up tomorrow night and see how it goes. Maybe you'll get some answers then,” she opened the back door, staring with raised brows, holding it open for you.

“Just exactly how long did you plan to have me waiting in here?” Yuki asked as she saw the two of you coming back in from the rear patio.

“My bad, Yuki. You know, you could've just come outside with us.” Shoko grumbled.

“And end up smelling like cigarettes? No thanks,” she retorted. “Can we please get out of here, I don't like hanging out where I get paid.”

Shoko huffed, “Oh my god, woman, alright. Let's get home.”

↞ ··· ↠

“Are you sure this is the place?” You asked Shoko as she drove down the dark road full of trees.

“That’s what’s in the GPS...” she said, frowning. “Unless he gave you shit for directions.” She let her window down a bit as she lit another cigarette.

“It’s awfully dark back here,” Yuki complained, with a turned-up nose, barely making out the trees whooshing past the window though the pitch black.

“Yeah it is...” Shoko squints through her smoke and the faint glow the headlights provided, regardless of the brights.

“Looks like we’re finally close at least,” Yuki interjected, peering at what was a glimpse of a few lights in a house at the end of the road as she rolled her window completely down. “Shoko, God. I really don’t wanna smell like cigarettes when we get there.”

“Oh, be quiet, you’ll live,” Shoko retorted.

“Oh ... my god,” you replied, picking up on what Yuki saw, the building finally coming into view. “Looks like we’re ... here?”

Shoko was seemingly just as shocked as you. ”Whoa,” She muttered.

As the headlights of the car illuminate the property, you pull up to a beautiful, eclectic, mini-mansion nestled away in the middle of this thick forest. The wheels of the car rumble softly as you roll up onto the smooth bound resin driveway of a three car garage.

“What does he do again?” Yuki asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. “You said he was a massage therapist?”

“Well, we were getting to that part but...” you started, as you shook your head, your eyes darting every direction, taking in the beautiful surroundings.

Shoko shifted the car into park, then turned it off. You all paused, gawking at each other, ears perked as you made out distant sounds.

“Hmm, I hear music... let’s go in. I’m a hell of a lot more curious now.” Shoko grins as she makes her way out of the car.

You all exited the vehicle, then walked slowly up the stairs to the front door as the tall glass windows displayed a perfect view inside the house.

An adorable young guy with pink hair flung the door open, wafting the cool air around as it seemed to pull you in. “Hey, what’s up? You guys friends of Cho’s?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Shoko says as she introduces all of you.

“I’m Itadori, Cho’s younger brother. Come on in,” he said with a bright smile as he stepped aside to let you through the door.

One of the first things you notice is the scent. It was a fresh, yet herbal aroma with a hint of dark musk. Strong enough to be obvious, but not overwhelming; lightly overpowered by the smell of the food.

You step into a huge room, onto the beautifully finished hardwood floors of a space so vast and open, you could see straight back into the kitchen, and beyond to more large windows connected to a door leading to the back of the house. 

The second floor was also visible from there, and as your eyes traveled upward, you notice a huge, wooden, intricately carved chandelier fixture mimicking tree branches, hanging from the ceiling, it’s lights brightening the entire space.

There were plants everywhere. Hanging plants, potted ones on the surfaces and a few large houseplants strategically placed about, a couple of them mini trees, stretching up nearly ten feet. There were even dried herbs hanging in the open kitchen.

The place was lit dimly but sufficiently, as the bulbs from the chandelier reflected beautifully off the windows. The entrance opened to the living room. A staircase along the exposed brick wall to the right of the door lead up to the next floor, the wall adorned with a few abstract paintings.

The kitchen, where Choso stood talking to two handsome guys, was full of modern stainless steel appliances, and every area was spotless. The taller guy was making drinks with a huge smile on his face.

The atmosphere was breathtaking. Warm, and inviting. You’d only just arrived and already didn’t want to leave.

“That’s Todo and Ino in the kitchen with Cho,” Itadori said as he locked up the front door behind you. “Make yourselves at home.” he walked over toward the quartz top island bar in the kitchen where the boys stood.

“Holy sh-...” Shoko mouthed to you, amazement plastered on her face as she looked around. “Let’s see how these drinks taste,” she says, smiling widely.

The three of you wander over to join them. You’d never seen Choso this way before. He looked so happy and relaxed in his element.

“He seems a little different here, right?” Yuki whispered to you.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Hey girls. Thanks for coming,” Choso’s face seemed to light up as he popped what appeared to be a piece of dark chocolate into his mouth.

That smile, though small, formed a tiny dimple between his cheek and his mouth. You didn’t see that often, if ever, considering his usually quite stoic expression. But you sure as hell wouldn’t mind seeing more of it.

“Thanks for the invite,” Yuki said cheerfully. “This place is gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” Choso replied. “Did you find it okay?”

“We did, though we were a little worried when we realized it was back here in the trees,” Shoko jokes.

He chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, sorry about that. It can be a little confusing. Especially in the dark.” He looked over to you, his eyes slightly hooded, piercing. His smirk still playing at his lips as he leaned against the counter. “You want a drink?”

“Sure,” you answered, trying hard not to keep gazing curiously at him as if you’d never seen him before. He somehow felt even more familiar now that you were in his space. You really did feel almost at home.

His eyes softened even more, blinking once sleepily as he spoke. “What do you drink?”

Gah... that face would surely be the death of you.

“Uh... I guess it depends. I should probably take it easy though, since I didn’t really eat much for dinner.”

“Hmm...” he said, contemplating as he finished his chocolate. “Ok... one Bloody Mary, coming right up. I’ll even add a celery stalk.” He said, his eyes almost refusing to tear away from you as he turned to make it.

You pressed your smile in, flattening your lips into a thin line. Fine and clever. “That’s actually perfect. Thank you”.

“Of course. I hope you can relax while you’re here.” His demeanor emitted a quiet confidence, but was contradicted by the slightest bit of timidity, making him all the more beautiful.

You tried focusing your attention toward your friends, yet Shoko and Yuki had already become preoccupied with talking to the other guys. It was becoming a little more obvious that Shoko was right.

You watched as he meticulously crafted your drink in a metal shaker first, then poured it into a small mason jar with a handle, adding a salt mix to the rim, then dropping in a celery stalk and ... a skewer... with food on it?

You frowned in confusion, having never seen anyone make a bloody mary look so ... delicious. He added chicken breast cubes, black olives, and cheese from the snack plates he had out. It was crazy.

“Wow. How did you learn to do that?” You asked, fascinated by his ease.

“My mom,” he responded with a small sigh, “she’s brilliant in the kitchen.” He’s quiet for a beat, then asks, “Come outside with me?” as he nodded toward the back door.

He grabs both glasses and walks toward the door behind the kitchen, which led out to his enormous fenced backyard, the entire area surrounded by even more lush green land.

On your way out, you eyeballed the girls so they’d have an idea of where you were headed. “So... I’m more curious than ever now, Choso. What is it that you do again?”

“Yeah, we didn’t exactly get to finish that conversation, did we?” He blushed as he looked down at the drinks in his hand, passing one to you.

You shook your head, taking a sip. Your eyes brightened, brows furrowing as the flavor hit your tastebuds. “Wow, that’s good. Even a little spicy. Yum...!” You giggled, sipping more.

“Thanks. I’m glad you like it,” he said with a grin, obviously pleased with his handiwork.

He sits down on one of the chairs in front of a crackling fire pit. You sit at an angle next to him on another chair. He took a sip of his drink, minus the food.

“So... I actually have a doctorate in Hematology and own a Massage Clinic.”

Your eyes grew wide as you sipped. “What?” Surprise and genuine interest gracing your voice. “Wow... Y-You own one?” One of your eyebrows shot up. “Well, that explains the sound advice you gave me before,” you huffed, smiling brightly.

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “I worked pretty hard in college. Nothing mattered to me more than getting out on my own to make enough to take care of my mother.”

“Your mother?” You echoed, curiosity growing behind your eyes and voice. “Where is she now?”

“Well, she and my father separated when I was in college. Things were... difficult. But she’s doing well now. I actually got this place relatively cheap off of her. It belonged to both my parents. She moved back home and didn’t want to sell it outside of the family,” he explains to you.

You nod slowly as he elaborates and you hum, “I’m glad she’s well now. This house...it’s immaculate. Looks like they put a lot of work into it. But so did you, right? Now that I know what you do, it definitely suits you.”

He looked up at you with a warm smile, “Thanks. It’s pretty convenient for work. A lot of the herbs I use for tinctures and aromatherapy are here on this land. I even work from here when offering services to some of my VIP’s.”

You raise your brows, intrigued, “VIP’s, huh?” It was proving to be exciting getting to know him. Turns out he was far more interesting than you thought, but you wanted to know more.

“Yeah, some of my clients I went to school with, and some I met at events. Business just grew from word of mouth. I can’t say I’m good at networking.” He looked up at you after a pause. “But...I’m actually curious about you, too. How did you end up getting into social work?”

“Well, after I finally chose a major at college, I studied for the degree, then received an opportunity here in this city to work at a great place.” Another smile spread across your face as you looked out into the dark green of his vast backyard. You took a deep breath and continued, “It’s good money for the time I’m there, but I’m not as often as I’d like to be. I do love it, though.”

“So, at your part time job you help people, and at your full-time job you serve people?” Choso asked, his lips turning up in one corner.

You glanced down into your glass with a huff, “Yeah. I guess I do.”

“Who’s serving you?” He asked, his eyes burrowing into yours as he peers up at you from his position in his chair, one eyebrow raised.

You return a shy glance in his direction, your brow furrowing a bit, eyes fluttering as you search your brain for what felt like an answer to a trick question.

“I uh... I dunno,” you sighed, and silence falls between you. “I suppose I could ask you the same thing, ’Doctor’.”

“Touché,” he murmured, letting out a small chuckle.

You laugh softly at his reply. “But... there’s something else that I don’t understand. I mean, you’ve been visiting us nearly four months now, and never invited us out. Why tonight?” You squinted, “And ... What’s with the crazy tips?”

He smiled, looking down at his drink, his feet planted flat on the ground, resting his elbows at his knees. He took a deep breath and looked up at you as if you already had the answer.

Your head cocked to the side, curiosity obvious on your face, not to mention, your apparently very strong drink was starting to kick in.

“What’s a guy like you doing coming to a restaurant on a weekly basis, just to drop large bills on a woman you just met?” You press further.

He continued to hold his head down toward his drink as you spoke, swirling it around in his hand. His eyes flick up suddenly towards you. “Tch... You’re just as fiery and tenacious as always.”

“Always?” You echo; the buzz in your head created by that delicious drink traveling quickly through your system, the smell of it, even the fragrant greenery outside complimented it.

The more you relaxed in that atmosphere, the more you noticed about him, his features grew more attractive to you by the second.

Aside from the effects of the alcohol, a warm feeling washed over you. It was as if his meticulously curated environment had created a sense of relaxation that enveloped you. Clearly, he’s good at his job.

“Yeah,” he says, eyebrows raised, nodding. “Do you recall your last year of college?”

“Mmm...” you hummed, taking another sip. “Yeah. Well, most of it. I dealt with a complicated situation back then.”

“What kind of situation? If I could ask,” he requests gently.

You let out a soft sigh, strangely not finding it hard to open up at this moment, “I ended up in a coma for three months of it,” your brows formed a hard line in the center, “I really don’t even recall the reason. I just know I ... woke up in the hospital after having been out of it for that long.”

Choso frowned as he turned his gaze toward to you. “I’m sorry something like that happened to you,” he said as he looked out into the lush yard in the back of his house. “How badly were you hurt?”

“Well ... I had a concussion, a broken leg, and a fracture in my ribcage,” you tell him. As you took a breath, the aroma of burning wood blended in with the fragrance of herbs and the taste of fresh tomato, basil, and ... something else on your tongue. “According to my mother, I had been... attacked... by some of my classmates.”

“Attacked,” Choso uttered, still peering out into the yard, the word reverberating much more like an echo as opposed to a question.

“That’s ... awful,” he frowned, “You’re okay now though, right?” He asked, his gaze now raking over you as if searching your body for wounds.

“So far so good... I have a few scars though, of course,” you huffed.

He paused, slowly nodding. “Did uh... did you have a lot of friends back then?” his voice, lower and softer than before.

“I’d say I had a few. One in particular that I was really close to: Utahime. She’s still living in my hometown. I did have one other ... acquaintance ... of sorts. But... before we could get close, we kind of separated.”

“What do you mean ‘separated’?” He asks. You’re too buzzed to notice how seemingly interested he is in this topic with the endless questions.

“Well, he was a shy guy. Super smart and a bit of a mess. Wore glasses... He took a class with me, Psychology, but was one grade below me. I tried talking to him from time to time when I’d see him around since he was alone so often. I even tried helping him once. But it didn’t go well.”

“What happened?” He inquires almost immediately.

“Uh...” you frowned, sighing, lips scrunched up in one corner. “It’s kind of a blur...” you said, squinting as you shook your head. “I can’t even remember his name at this point. I don’t remember much at all about him except that I felt so...” you looked over at Choso, “comfortable with him.”

Your eyes darted back out into the yard, your expression softening as you spoke, thinking about this old friend of yours as you sigh softly. “He was brilliant, too. And quiet. I remember admiring how well he grasped the material.”

You stirred the remainder of your drink with your bamboo straw, continuing on, your frown deepening as you remembered the not so pretty parts of college...

 ”Some guys with a fraternity...ugh, they were such jerks... ridiculed him all the time. Masked it as joking around,” you scoffed quietly, shaking your head, “They kept taking his glasses, mocking him... It was so childish. I remember they broke a pair. It pissed me off ‘cause he never bothered anyone. I reported them but it was brushed off.”

Choso’s eyebrows jumped as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah... it was kind of a mess there,” he grumbled.

Your eyes flicked in his direction as he sat on the chair, “Did I tell you what school I attended?” You asked, now swaying a bit as you peered at him. Maybe you mentioned it in passing, but you didn’t recall doing so.

The crackling of the fire rang louder than his voice in your ears. He prompted you to continue. “But ... What happened to him after that?” He asked, taking another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving your face.

You cocked your head to the side, “I don’t remember,” you said, as you ripped your gaze away, turning it toward the floor, in hopes that the blank canvas would help refocus your mind and maybe trigger a memory.

It’s silent for a beat, as your gaze trails over the floor, then back up to the vast forest ahead. He does the same, both of you just basking in the silence of the surrounding nature. Fragrances and flavors seemed to come to life in you senses, a tinge of particular floral and musky aromas surfacing in your palate.

You sit with your last sentence for a moment, thinking about how people come and go in life, the alcohol really making you dwell on it, and you bring your gaze to him.

As you begin to speak, he looks back to you curiously, “Isn’t it both beautiful and heartbreaking how people can come and go in your life? How they exit after they have fulfilled their purpose? Kind of like... hah, like a theater stage being life. And they exit the stage once they have finished their role, and you don’t see them until the credits - the credits being when you die, but even then, you probably won’t acknowledge them if the font is tiiiiiny,” you squish your thumb and index finger together with a little giggle, but Choso doesn’t share your humor in the matter.

He looks hurt. Pained, even.

“I’m sorry,” Choso says quietly.

“What?” You said, squinting in his direction. “That was so long ago. It’s really nothing to be concerned about now. Thank you, though.”

Choso put his glass down and stood, walking over to you, stopping a foot in front of you. “No, I mean, I’m sorry,” he said firmly, staring into your eyes with an intensity you hadn’t seen before.

“I um ...” you looked up, gazing at his concerned face. “It’s okay. Seriously. It’s ... not that big a deal anymore...” you breathed, wondering why or how this conversation suddenly became so much heavier.

“I’m sorry I did nothing,” Choso grimaced a bit as he spoke, cringing at his own admission. “I was a coward,” he held his head down in shame, as if in confession, as if spilling secrets that had been hidden, concealed in dark places within his heart.

“What?” You whispered again, gawking at his face - that pretty face - and your head tilted slightly, “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You were so good to me,” he says, his eyes moving to meet yours. “Those assholes... they called me ‘So-So’. Tch. After everything, I really worried about you when you didn’t come back to school.”

You peered at him through your lashes for what felt like far too long. He holds your gaze, and you can see fear, hope, and regret swirling in those dark eyes of his. 

What does he mean? He sees your internal battle, and he breaks the eye contact, casually looking down to his shirt where there were a pair of glasses sat snugly over the first fastened button. 

You blink, slowly, the expression on your face morphing into one of shock.” Oh my god,” you gasped, unable to believe what... who you’re seeing.

Choso remained frozen in front of you, a slight hunch in his back, his eyes surveying your features which finally appeared... scared? Or just confused.

At that moment, it was impossible to know what to say. You found it very strange that you hadn’t registered the fact that a pair of glasses had been present there the entire time, though you acknowledged that your attention was drawn mostly toward his face since you’d arrived. Had he ever worn those to the restaurant?

It was as if you’d been under a light form of hypnosis, a daze of sorts that you’d somehow found comfort in. Though somewhere deep inside you, you were relieved the familiarity you felt toward him could now be traced back to a source.

“It’s been a really long time. I know,” he spoke softly as he hovered, no, towered over you. “I’m really sorry... for what happened.”

You were stunned, yet tipsy as you stood there, letting the revelation stew inside you of just exactly who had been sitting so close to you, having conversations with you, practically just paying you for the past few months.

Your breaths passed through your lungs much faster now as your eyes widened, taking in each part of his face, his body, his appearance, not knowing whether to be pissed, or to ask him how he’s been and be happy you could see him again.

The fact that your perception of him had completely shifted, that he’s now an entirely different person, someone you vaguely knew, weighing a thousand pounds on your chest as you took in this, “glowed-up” version of him.

“You asked me a question earlier,” Choso says, “That’s um...” his lips flattened into a thin line, “one ... of the reasons I’d been going to the restaurant. I came to see you every week because... I wanted to repay you.”

“Repay me?” You stood, staring, completely taken aback. “For what?”

“I feel... responsible,” he said as he straightened up. “Responsible for what you went through...for what happened.”

“How are you responsible?” You ask, heart hammering in your chest.

“It’s my fault. If you hadn’t been friends with me...” he shook his head. “I just have to make it right.”

“Friends with you?” Your face contorted in confusion. “You think that somehow caused a problem?”

Choso kept his head down, the look on his face a mix of sadness and frustration.

“Choso, I don’t even remember what actually happened. There were witnesses, but... It could’ve been a complete misunderstanding. Or even a total accident. To be honest, it’s a lot to rehash. Based on what I do know, I don’t understand your ... perception.”

The tipsiness in your body had numbed the feeling of revisiting this topic somewhat, and it hits you all of a sudden. You looked around, beginning to feel slightly dizzy, but very confused, not realizing you’d allowed a couple of tears to fall from your face.

“I um... I have to go,” you finally manage to get out.

You looked around for somewhere to put your glass down as you stood, shocked it wasn’t already shattered on the ground.

Choso stepped toward you, “Please–”

“No, it’s okay,” you interrupted, your hand raised as a silent request for him to keep his distance. “I just... I need to leave,” you tell him, shuddering as you exhale.

Your eyes darted back and forth as you attempted to gather your thoughts, remembering that Shoko and Yuki were inside. You turn to grab the handle of the door and push it open, walking straight past the four souls in the living room who now had terribly worried looks on their faces once they processed the look on yours.

“Shoko... um... will you...” you swallow thickly, “will you please take me home?” Your voice quivered as you worked to keep your flushed, teary expression to yourself.

Shoko panics a little, confused as you cross the room to the front door where she follows you, “Of course.”

Both her and Yuki’s attention turn to Choso, his expression pained as he stands at a ‘safe’ distance from you, yet making sure you get out okay.

“Is everything alright?” Yuki asks, obviously worried.

“Fine,” you nodded, “Totally fine. I just need to go,” you said, forcing a smile as you headed toward the door, both of your friends in tow.

Choso nods gently at her and Yuki, averting his eyes downward, then toward his friends. He walks over to the front door and locks it as he watches you get into the car and disappear back through the woods heading home.

↞ ··· ↠

You had actually lost sleep last night. Your brain was riddled with thoughts that kept churning repeatedly in what felt like an endless loop.

You never imagined running into anyone from your past, and of all people, him. Especially after having moved to an entirely different city. You had all but forgotten the heartache that came with that experience and now...

It happened a long time ago. Nearly ten years. But the PTS attached to it took years to shake, especially since there really wasn’t much closure, only questions and confusion.

No one had ever bothered to apologize for what happened, and up till now, the only ones who acknowledged it were your parents and the police who had investigated based on eyewitness testimonies and hunches.

Not to mention your hospital bills and time lost, having to retake missed classes, and the embarrassment of having gone through something so horrible. And since you transferred schools immediately after that, you never imagined anyone from there would be back within your proximity, and such close proximity, at that.

How did he even know where I was? I’ve been here over a year.

You couldn’t make sense of why this was happening. As you completed your morning rituals, your phone rang. A call from Yuki.

As you answered, you noticed a single text message from Choso.

Choso: ”Please forgive me.”

Your heart thumped once, heavily in your chest. I can’t believe this.

You answered the call from Yuki. “Hey.” 

You had briefly yet vaguely explained things to the girls in the car on your way home last night.

“Good morning, how are you feeling?”

“You know, I really don’t know?” you huffed, staring at the message he sent. “He texted me this morning. This feels so strange. I thought that whole experience was far behind me.”

“What did he say?” She asked.

“‘Please forgive me’. That’s all.”

“What is he asking you to forgive him for?”

You let out a heavy sigh as you processed that. “I really don’t understand it myself. And to be honest I’m not sure I wanna know.”

“Why?”

“Well, I don’t recall why things happened the way they did. After what it took for me to get past the stress of it, I can’t say I have the desire to dig it all back up again. I don’t get why after all this time he’d show up here.”

“Is your gut telling you something’s wrong?”

You took a moment to consider it, “Actually, no. I don’t remember ever having a single negative feeling around him during school.”

“Well, he’s been pouring money into you for a while now, do you think he has an ulterior motive or something?” She inquires.

“I truly have no idea,” you sigh.

“Maybe just talk to him a bit more? Find out what he wants. That’ll give you some more answers at least. Then you can decide whether to cut ties if necessary.”

“Yeah. I guess that makes sense. I mean, it’d be great to know that much.”

“I’m curious what the hell was going on with the fraternity. Were they really so wild at this university that this behavior was blatantly ignored?”

“Well, he definitely wasn’t the only person to experience them, they were just meatheads being assholes as far as I know. It was frustrating, though. That’s one of the reasons I bothered to intervene. Even I got tired of it.”

“Yeah. Can’t say I blame you for that. I would, too. But look, don’t allow yourself to feel pressured to deal with it all right now, though. Just...take your time and handle it the way that’s best for you,” she says gently.

“I’ll do my best not to wrack my brain over it.”

“Will I see you tomorrow at work?”

“Yeah, but only tomorrow night. I’ll be at the center in the morning.”

“Alright. Relax ok? Make sure you sort out exactly how you feel first.”

“I will. Thanks, Yuki.”

You bid each other goodbye and hung up. Your eyes flicked around a bit as the wheels in your head turned, already neglecting to keep your promise to Yuki not to worry. You gripped your coffee by the handle of your favorite mug, curling your legs up on the couch as you stared at his text.

You: When I was hospitalized, why didn’t you come to see me?

Choso: ...

It took a while for him to answer, you watched him type, then delete, then type, then delete again, evidenced by the bubble appearing and disappearing. You weren’t sure if he was making up an excuse, or actually having a hard time with the question.

Choso: I couldn’t face you.

Choso: Not after everything. Not until I could repay you.

You feel your heart clench and start to beat faster as you read his messages, and you type your response quickly with the first thought that comes to mind.

You: It happened long ago. The damage is done.

Choso: And it’s my fault. I’m sorry.

Choso: I’ll work to make things right. As long as it takes.

Choso: I could never make it up to you but please let me try.

Choso: Please.

The more honest you were with yourself, the more you were able to simply admit that you weren’t quite sure how to navigate this situation.

You: Why did you take so long to tell me? At the restaurant...

Choso: I wanted to talk privately.

Choso: In a better environment. & I didn’t want to scare you.

You sit and stare at your phone, and then up into space as you visualize his face in your head. It’s so crazy that it’s really him.

The guy you helped gather his things after he fumbled his books. The one who sat at the library studying alone only to be harassed by a group of random students with apparently nothing better to do.

What happened to him was pretty fucked up. He didn’t deserve that.

But of course, neither did you. 

Who is he now?

He’s older, maybe wiser, but ... what could you expect from him?

He’s been to the restaurant many times, and was never stand offish, or fearful... not to mention his appearance. He was practically unrecognizable as your old classmate.

But... he was still warm. Still sweet. Still brilliant.

It was just so strange seeing him again. Being in contact with him again. And it seemed that you’d spoken more in these few months than you had the entire time you were acquainted with him during college.

Choso: I just want to do right by you.

You: ... I gtg for now Choso. Ttyl ok?

Choso: Ok.

↞ ··· ↠

You were already tired by the time you went back to work the next day. You suspect it was mental exhaustion. You had talked to a few kids at the Center earlier in the day, and they had actually lifted your spirits, but you couldn’t help how difficult it felt to just get back to normal.

After a few hours there, you had finally made it to the restaurant, walking in through the back door, just in time to pick up a full section of four tables.

“I’m sorry about this,” Shoko apologized as you were wrapping your apron around your waist. “Mahito is an asshole. He talked to the customers at the door and sat them all at your tables even though we told him you weren’t here yet.”

“Ugh! What the hell is his problem?” You griped.

“I wish we knew,” Yuki answers, “Don’t worry though, we got all of their drink orders. We’ll just transfer all of the checks to you when you’re ready.”

“Oh, I have the best friends everrrrr! Thank you!” You gave them a grateful look and smiled softly as you grabbed a checkbook from her.

“You’d better remember that when it’s time to pool tips,” Yuki quipped.

“Ha,” Shoko laughed, eyeing you playfully, “For real.”

“Oh don’t worry I won’t forget!” You called out as you rushed toward the front. You were already a little tired from having worked that morning, but your second wind was coming on.

You check yourself in the mirror in the doorway to be sure you’re straight before you head to your section, scraping any lint from your crisp uniform and apron. You saunter over to your section, and...lo and behold.

A familiar face sitting at your corner window table.

He was breaking his routine.

He had just been there a few days ago and wasn’t scheduled for at least until the rest of the week was over.

Yuki walks by you, raising her eyebrows as she heads to her tables and mouths, telling you with her eyes as well, “Talk to him.”

Neither of your friends had bothered mentioning that he was there.

 You quickly cut your eyes at her before you approach him, your smile fading as you drew closer. “Ahem ...” You clear your throat as his head is buried in his laptop. He was wearing all black today, relaxed and casual with black combat boots and a hoodie, hair down, looking particularly ravishing.

“What can I get you tonight?”

“I don’t need anything else but this right now,” he says as he nods toward his Hennessy, his dark locks falling over his face, quickly swiped behind his ear as he stares up at you.

“Okay,” you reply, turning away. “I’ll be back in a few min–”

“Except...” he grabs your arm to stop you, “you can tell me what I can do for you.”

“Um...” you laugh nervously as you look down at his strong hand wrapped completely around your tiny wrist. “Choso... come on... I’m a little busy right now.”

“Okay, okay. I know. But if you’d just tell me real quick, I’ll be cool,” he says, taking a sip of his drink, using his free hand, his eyes raking over your form.

“We’re ready to order,” another table calls over to you.

You glance over to them before turning back to Choso. “I have to go...” 

“Alright,” he says, slowly releasing your arm, causing your hand to slide through his, his fingers tracing your palm as you pull away.

Choso sat there. All night. Just as he had the last time he was there.

Ironically, his presence made your night easier, considering you didn’t get other customers sat in that spot.

You were finished with work by 9:30, feeling completely drained as you cashed out. You walked toward the front to leave, only to see Choso sitting at a table close to the door, waiting.

Your stride slowed as you approached, “You know you could just text me, right?” You mumbled.

“Obviously. But why, when I can see you in person?” He stood up from the chair, causing you to look up at him as he slipped the strap of his bag over his shoulder, both of you, just standing there for a moment.

“Come to my house. Have dinner with me.” He paused, “I just wanna... talk,” he gazed down at you through his darkened eyes, taking in your form and your sweet face as his eyes landed on your lips.

“It’s late,” you sighed, averting your gaze down to the floor as you tried to hide the heat rising in your cheeks from his intense stare, “And I’m tired.”

“This weekend, when you’re off,” he suggests.

You took a deep breath, figuring you may as well hear him out. You nod once and exhale slowly, “Okay.”

Choso nods, towering over you, savoring your presence one last time with a hint of satisfaction on his face. “Cool. Friday night then,” he says, his smile warming your heart as he disappears through the double doors.

“That looked like a positive interaction,” Shoko jokes as she heads toward the front door to take you home.

“Well, we’ll see about that. I have no idea what to expect from him honestly. Besides more apologies,” you laugh a little, making light of the situation.

“That’s a start, right? I mean, he’s been on your ass for months now,” she teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. He’s definitely persistent. I’ll give him that,” you mumble, watching him through the windows as he hops in his car and pulls off.

Shoko chuckles at you, an unlit fresh cigarette between her lips, “Alright. let’s go.”

↞ ··· ↠

Choso picked you up in his deep green Rivian. As he opened the door for you, he had to help you to hop up inside. Another pleasing aroma, cedarwood, perhaps?, filled the space of the ride, the lights softly illuminating the interior against the dark of the night, the soft music adding a sweet touch to the atmosphere.

After you’d settled into your seat, he closes your door and walks around to his side and climbs in, looking as amazing as always, his glasses tucked  in a black henley with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and gray sweatpants.

His hair was down, his tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his right arm, his muscles flexing as you watched him shift the truck’s gears. The way he lit up your insides, you’d definitely call him hot. But, you remembered, that wasn’t always so.

However, he was always sweet, making his sexiness even more attractive now.

You tried keeping your eyes on the road, stealing glances at him every so often as he took control of the car, and of where you were going. There seemed to be a sense of comfort and relaxation that came with that, which you loved.

You glanced down at his legs as they stretched out underneath the dash, one knee waving back and forth as he kept his right hand on the wheel, the other pressed against his pretty lips, his focus straight ahead.

If only things weren’t so complicated.

You arrived at his home, and as you walked into the beautiful foyer, you could already smell some of the food he’d begun to prepare.  

“Dinner will be ready in a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thanks” you replied, following him through the main room to his grey quartz island as you sat on the opposite side, observing him closely while he made his way around his kitchen. 

As beautiful and strong as he was, Choso had a grace about him that was almost mesmerizing. Every movement, intentional. Every intention, deliberate. He lifted each vegetable up to take in it’s aroma before cutting, as if the fragrance was the final quality assurance test it was required to pass before use. 

His tendons flexed clearly against his muscles as he carefully chopped each one, their juices barely spilling onto the cutting board by way of his razor sharp knife. Choso calculated every motion, and savored every moment as he moved, as if the journey toward the end of his process was equally as pleasing as the reward he would receive for the final result.

He served the plates on the corner of the island, as he sat across from you. “Enjoy.” he prompted.

He’d prepared a perfect Kobe steak, medium rare, with seasonal veggies and truffle mac and cheese. And boy, was it divine. The steak practically melted in your mouth, seasoned perfectly with herbs, the veggies were crisp and fresh as if he’d picked them himself, and the mac and cheese was decadent and rich. 

“That was ... so good.” you raved, one eyebrow hiked up. “Did your mother influence your cooking skills also?” You ask him as you finish the last of your drink and set the cup down gently.

He smiles softly, his gaze traveling up to yours, “Yeah. She told me, ‘A man’s gotta know his way around his own home’. I learned plants from her, too.”

“She seems like a wonderful woman,” you reply, the tender look of nostalgia on his face making your heart skip a beat, and his deep voice vibrating you to your core.

“I’m glad you agreed to come,” he murmurs, that beautiful smile peeking again.

“Yet ... I really am still wondering why you invited me,” you tell him, “Choso, I hate to sound too... forward. But...is there something you want from me? I’ve been trying to figure it out, and I just ... can’t.”

He glanced up, locking eyes with you for just a moment, looking away quickly as if the contact had somehow triggered him. 

“Look... I know I can’t change the past. And I’m actually genuinely happy that ... despite how fucked up everything was back then, we’re in good places in life. I just... I can’t help but feel like I’m indebted to you.”

“Indebted?” You shook your head, rolling your eyes in a huff, upset that he feels so much guilt still, “Choso, I’ll admit. I was shocked when you told me who you are. It really threw me off. I spent a lot of time getting over what went down back then. So yeah, seeing you here, now... it was... debilitating. I don’t know. Maybe I realized I needed something...some kind of closure? But you’ve apologized... for whatever it is you think you’ve done. We can leave it at that.”

He leaned against the island, his body facing in your direction, his eyes studying your face, following your every gesture, his gaze sorrowful. “I really am sorry. I wish you could understand how sorry. I regret not standing up to them on my own to begin with, but I regret even more that I wasn’t there for you.”

You purse your lips for a moment and let out a soft sigh, and he continues.

“It’s crazy how this kinda shit follows you into adulthood. For a long time, I let what they said about me shape who I was. And not being who I wanted to be made it worse. I was fucked up. For many reasons.”

He stood from his chair and walked over to you, and you feel your breath hitch as the distance between you grows shorter. “You don’t know this … because I never told you. But... your presence in my life meant … the world to me.”

You turn the stool and your body toward him, your legs propped up by your feet as you observed his expressions. His sincerity remained at the forefront as he spoke, sparking memories of the sweet guy you were once so kind to.

“You were one of the only people who made me feel like myself. Like someone who mattered. Like who I was meant something. All I want now, is to repay you for what you were for me. I’d like to do the same for you.”

Your heart clenches and you swallow as your brain processes his words.

He stepped closer, “You were always sweet. Always helping. Always kind. Even now. You haven’t changed. After everything that’s happened to you.”

You blink, your eyes glassy as tears cloud them for a moment.

“But...Choso, what have you been doing all this time?” You think aloud, your eyes shrinking into a squint, “You created a great career, a home...why haven’t you put this behind you?”

He shrugged, lips curling downwards a little, “I found out that you’d moved here after I started my practice. My mother had already been planning to move out of this house for a while.” he spoke softly, “I got busy focusing on my work, building this life,” his eyes scanned the room.

“I came here...” he continued, “hoping to be closer to you.”

↞ ··· ↠

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Special thanks to the lovely @ashasdiary for not only beta reading for me, but for her wonderful support and helpful notes that pushed me to take this story to the direction I'm currently so in love with! 🥰😘 .

. Thanks for reading! ✨🩸✨

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M.List | Ch.02 (Coming Soon) ↠

Notes: As always, I welcome any and all critiques, suggestions, and comments regarding my work, since I truly feel all of those may make me a much better writer! I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my little stories, and if you'd like to be tagged in releases, don't hesitate to comment below! 😊💖

©cocomanga 2024 | Please do not plagiarize, copy, or distribute my work.

Fanart by: @Arekushisu11 Ombre Caution/DNI & Animated lines: Courtesy of @CafeKitsune Additional dividers by @CocoManga

Taglist: 💖Please lmk if you'd like to be removed! 🥰

@lavender-hvze @another365 @vantadaes @chosolover @242422rc @kashiiwi @mintiroo @melaniemartinezloverr @sakura-blxssxm @neurydyta @distractionforyourthoughts @strangegirl7892:) @jasmionerose @bfejp @chosolovers @asramin @destinyfleur @louanneeeeeeee @randomly12aqua @watermelon-19 @sketchy-business @spidergirlnr1 @sillyoverload @flwrbbyx @firebonbon @slutkoo @doomsday08 @scrumptiouscarrotcake @jayeke @minjizziee @stressedand-obsessed @imtheprintt @menwhere

@strvqtt @rowwyboi @i-think-i-have-a-fever @itsswageyamatobiyolo @ms-shoja @whos-curiosity-killed-the-cat @milleriverr @everythingfits-here @ph4n-7om @chaxtic-euphxria @mafertl @fatiguedcow @vxnus101 @honey69b @wisteriaav @lystee @hazeyeyes @iyyshlymg @shelov3sstars @sollasollaahh @animewhur @ghostnotlovergirl @lulubluu @sacredyoongi @sleeplrd @aldebrana @alter-bananant @yuhhh7899 @riverrrrrrrx @luckyperfectionsandwich @insecuregirlblog @npx2 @shyplaidalmondfriend @kill-shoot @milkyyboyy @choupijk @s0ulz4-20 @xiscaprinz @doomalot @alonahh @adastinks @mjmjmhmhmh

[furbing-atrocities]

1998 Furby Pattern (Tail Version)

1998 Furby Pattern (Mane Version)

Do Not Crop Or Resize!

This pattern will print out proportional to a regular piece of printer paper (8.5in x 11in)! This pattern includes seam allowance! I have marked in where the ear gets sewn on, where the feet go, and to leave a portion of the ear open. Otherwise, just match up the markings! There is a note on the side piece to match squares with their mirrored position. For the ears "2 of each color" means the inner color and the outer color.

I guessed on the hair puff, so it may not be entirely accurate. However it seems to be about that size and based on the funky sewing on the inside, its a circle. PLEASE CORRECT ME IF IM WRONG AND I WILL ADJUST!

I dont yet have a pattern piece for the tail bc that requires disassembling one, which i will do when I begin my next custom.

I hope to make patterns for 1998 babies, 2005 adults, and connects before the end of the summer.

Edit: I have added the mane pattern! please note that the mane and tail version of the side piece are DIFFERENT!! You cannot use the tail side piece for a maned furby, or the skin will be too big.

Edit 2: Please don't forget to add the fabric at the bottom for the zip tie/elastic!! The band is about 1/2 inch wide, so I would suggest making the strip you cut 1 1/2 to 2 inches wide. I dont have a measuring tape on me rn, so I can't measure how long it is :/

Edit 3: Tail added! You might need to resize the tail one a bit bc for some reason the 1in reference square doesn't look the same size? Hope this helps! :)

[aaazzie]

hi guys ur local (non-religious) angelkin here ! i saw this post about wanting more gear, and I’ve made some gear for myself, so i thought I’d make a little tutorial :)

here’s how to make wings that you can put on your ears!! it can be for any alterhuman/otherkin who wants them, or even just for cosplay or fun ^_^ do whatever you want forever

you’ll need:

- a sheet or two of thicker paper (like cardstock, or you can use thin cardboard)

- a few sheets of paper (cardstock or not) in colors of your choice for feathers, i use construction paper

- a little bit of wire or strong yarn/string

- a glue stick or some tape

- scissors or a pocket knife

- a pen, pencil, marker or etc

- a hole punch, pen, or anything sharp to poke holes with

step one!

[PT: step one! End PT]

take your thicker piece of paper/cardstock/thin cardboard and cut out two of this shape! if you have a printer, you’re free to print this and use it as a template— if not, it’s fairly simple to draw!

step two!

[PT: step two! End PT]

using your paper in colors of your choice, cut out or trace the shapes in the image below! from left to right, the first one is considered the biggest, the second is the medium, and the third is the smallest. these will be the feathers! if you want to have different colors for each layer, each size should have their own color. if you want it to be random, you can go wild!!

to cut these out, I fold over the paper a bunch of times, trace my shape on, and then cut it so that i have a bunch of them in one go! you can do whatever’s most comfortable, though, because that can hurt your wrist if you have bad scissors!

step three!

[PT: step three! End PT]

start gluing or taping!! here’s where you wanna follow this chart that i made, or the one that i found on Pinterest of different kind of bird wings! if you know the source for that one, please feel free to link it :)

i start with the biggest feathers first, then add the medium ones, making sure that they’re overlapping so there’s no empty space. finally, you can add the small ones!

step four; the final one!

[PT: step four; the final one! End PT]

using your hole punch, pen, or sharp object of your choosing, poke holes wide enough for your wire, string, or yarn to fit through! here’s what mine looks like!

measure your wire/string/yarn so that it’ll go around your ear, but you’ll still have some extra to tape down. it should be pretty snug! then, feed your wire/string/yarn through! you want the ends of it to be on the back of the wing, so you can tape them down, and the loop facing you!

you’re done!

[PT: you’re done! End PT]

you can loop whatever string you have around your ear, and adjust it so that it fits! I found that wire works the best for me, since it’s sturdy and i can twist it if it comes loose. if you have absolutely any questions, please RB this or comment with it, and I’ll do my best to help out! here’s what mine looked like done and on me :) you’re free to make these, and you don’t have to credit me, but i do ask that if somebody asks how you made them, you redirect them back to this post. if you’d like to make a video version if this, please ask me first! I’m more than open to it, i just want to know if you are making one :)

while you’re here, don’t forget your daily clicks!

[upagainstthewallwithme]

The Domestic Approach

Neighbour!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Kinktober Day 4: Thigh Riding @flightlessangelwings

Word Count: 1.8K

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You moved in next door to Wanda Maximoff over a year ago. You knew her by sight, giving an occasional polite wave. 

No matter the time, she always seemed in a flushed hurry, too busy to stop and talk. Still she always returned the wave.

You wondered if she could tell how much you wanted to fuck her. 

.

The first time you spoke to Wanda was at the library. 

Her back was to you but she still caught your attention. She was stretching on her heels as she lifted down a heavy book.

She opened the book, her finger trailed through the book’s index. As you got closer, you saw her mouth moving silently as she read each heading to herself.

She bit her lip in obvious disappointment, dropping the book onto a pile that was forming by her feet. 

‘Need any help?’ You offered spontaneously.

Wanda startled, her cheeks flushed in recognition and then she shook her head. 

‘I’m just looking for a recipe.’ She admitted, tucking a flyaway piece of hair behind her ear. ‘But I can’t remember the name of the cookbook.’

Your eyes wandered to the heap of books on the floor beside her. 

Wanda looked mortified as she dropped to a crouch.

‘And I was just putting these back.’ She promised, hurrying to pick up a book and placing it on a shelf.

You didn’t tell her that you didn’t care where she left her books. 

Instead you watched the way her cream blouse fell forward, exposing the top of her breasts. The soft alabaster skin was hypnotizing, partly hidden by a blush camisole underneath.

You walked over to help, taking another book from the pile. You placed it next to hers on the shelf. You let your hand brush her bare arm as you reached. 

You watched fresh goosebumps flare along her skin until the edge of her sleeve covered the evidence.

You heard Wanda’s shaky breathing as you continued to help. 

When you were finished, Wanda took a deep, steadying breath and tried to smooth the creases in her burgundy skirt. She looked at you, her gaze hesitant. You smiled readily. You liked that.

‘Thank you.’ She said with another hesitant smile ‘I’m so stupid. I don’t think I’ll ever remember the name of that book.’

‘There’s always the internet.’ You said, letting the suggestion float. You wanted more time with her. 

‘I’m terrible on-line’ Wanda laughed a little self consciously. ‘I’m always touching the wrong thing.’

‘I bet.’ You said, enjoying yourself too much. ‘Maybe we’ve found a way for me to help?’

A few minutes later, Wanda was sitting at the old library computer. Her purse was in her lap. She leaned towards the monitor, reading the words on the screen quietly to herself as she tried to follow your instructions. 

‘And, do I click here?’ She asked unsurely. 

‘Exactly.’ You encouraged, your body barely touching her shoulder. 

You caught Wanda’s pleased smile in the monitor’s reflection. 

A moment later, she was flummoxed again. She’d clicked the wrong link on the search page. 

The cursor moved uncertainly toward the close window button. 

You leaned forward, quickly covering Wanda’s hand as you guided the mouse to the ‘back’ button she was trying to find. 

She opened her mouth and you knew she was going to chastise herself again. 

‘Don’t worry, you were close.’ You murmured, your face inches from her. 

You felt Wanda’s breath hitch. 

You lifted your hand from hers and stood back again. 

At last, you heard the printer in the corner begin to churn out a copy of the recipe. You left for the leaf of paper and brought it back to the desk. 

Wanda’s face lit up in pleasure. 

‘Thank you so much.’ She said, folding it carefully into her purse. 

‘No problem. I hope you have a good day.’ You took another step back. You hoped she’d turn away first, you wanted to see her ass again in that skirt.

Wanda stared at you with an expression you didn’t recognise. 

‘Would you like to come over?’ She asked suddenly. Your eyebrows raised at her forwardness. 

Wanda flushed again. ‘To try the recipe.’ She clarified, swallowing nervously. ‘I wanted to make it tonight. And there’s only me.’

You thought about her soft breasts when you agreed. 

.

You knocked on her door at 7pm. Barely a moment later, Wanda opened it. Her white apron was tucked neatly around a neat red dress and matching heels. Her hair had been styled carefully, accentuating her face.

‘Oh good, you’re here.’ She said breathlessly. Her eyes wandered over you for a long moment. Then her gaze flashed back up to your face guiltily as if she was scared to be caught.

‘It smells good.’ You said encouragingly as you followed her into her kitchen. Her dress sleeve was almost slipping off her shoulder.

‘I hope so.’ Wanda hummed pleasantly, hesitating as she checked a timer. You checked it too. Thirty more minutes. 

Wanda poured you both a drink and you sat together at her kitchen island. She tried some small talk. You nodded along, half listening. The sleeve of her dress was about to slip off her shoulder completely. 

Wanda stopped talking, self conscious about your lack of focus.

You leaned forward, lifting the sleeve back into place. Wanda froze perfectly at your touch. 

‘Thank you.’ She whispered hoarsely. Her fingers moved to touch the top of the sleeve thoughtlessly. You watched her play with the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. 

You knew then, without doubt, that she was attracted to you. You took a sip of your drink. You’d wanted to fuck her since you’d caught sight of her that morning. 

Wanda glanced at you and looked away again. Her gaze landed on your lap. She bit her lip. 

You could feel her thoughts radiating out. She wanted to touch you.

‘I’ve wanted to fuck you since this morning.’ You said out loud. The air changed at Wanda’s sharp breath.

She looked nervous as if she’d been the one to say it. Her breathing went shallow. 

‘Are you sure?’ She asked, not looking at you.  

You smirked then. You touched her thigh.

Wanda shuddered, legs parting on instinct. She stared down at your hand in her lap. You cleared your throat and she finally looked up at you. Her hair was already mussed.

‘This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me.’ She told you nervously. ‘I didn’t think. I didn’t know if you’d want me like this.’ 

You kissed her softly. When your lips met her full ones, she gave a soft ‘Oh’ of surprise. Her hand brushed lightly over your hair. Uncontrolled want .

You pulled back and regarded the warmth still flushing her cheeks. Her green eyes took a moment to open. 

You brushed her cheek. You could tell she was caught between something fragile and desperate.

‘I want to fuck you every way I can think of.’ You promised her. Wanda swallowed and you knew if you tried to touch her now, she’d already be wet on your fingers. 

‘I think I’d like that.’ She confessed. 

She leaned forward and kissed you. Her mouth was hesitating, gentle. Then needy, urgent as she tasted you. You dragged your teeth across her lower lip.

A moan escaped her mouth. 

Without daring to look, Wanda slipped her hand under your top, moving until she found your breasts. She squeezed softly, over and over. Unable to lose the urgency she was trying to hide. 

You saw everything clearly now.

‘You’ve thought about this before.’ You accused lightly. Wanda’s eyes darted to you as she pulled back from your mouth. 

‘Did you watch me through the window?’ You continued. You pulled her dress sleeves down again, baring her pale shoulders. Your fingers trailed lightly over the exposed skin.

Wanda shifted uncomfortably in her chair as your touch continued. 

‘Just once.’ She breathed. ‘That first night. I saw you changing. You left the blind up.’

You pulled Wanda gently from her seat, letting her arms drape over your shoulders. You kissed her collarbone slowly, nipping and sucking at the skin. You could hear every gasp leave her lungs. 

‘Wanda.’ You corrected. ‘I know you watched more than that.’ 

You watched her swallow, eyes glassy as she nodded. You knew. She’d thought about you at night in her bed. You could picture her, touching herself to the image of you.

You cupped her ass, drawing her closer. She stumbled obediently, a heel clacking to either side of your leg. 

You lifted her dress up, apron still attached. Wanda pressed herself needily against your thigh.  

‘Oh.’ Wanda moaned, holding your shoulders to steady herself.

You slid your palm along her underwear. The soft cotton was soaked through. Wanda squirmed at your touch. 

‘I’ve never been so wet before.’ She told you, voice strangled. 

‘I don’t think that’s true.’ You corrected, pressing a little harder as you brushed her clit. ‘I think you get wet all the time Wanda, with your little fantasies.’

You took your hand away, focused now on peeling her dress down to her waist. 

Wanda hummed mindlessly, still rocking herself against your thigh.

When her breasts were free, you kissed the soft pink areolas with satisfaction. You ran your tongue over her hardened nipples. You’d been thinking about this all day. Wanda whimpered at the light sensation. 

You rolled your thumbs back and forth over her nipples and looked up at her. Her eyes were half closed. She gripped your shoulders tighter.

‘It’s okay, honey.’ You promised, leaning up to leave a kiss under her ear. ‘I just want to treat you nice tonight.’ 

‘Oh.’ Wanda sighed as your lips touched her skin. Her hips moved like it was her only instinct. You felt her damp underwear sliding along your leg. You tensed your thigh and she pressed her clit needily against you. You felt her legs begin to tremble. 

‘Oh.’ Wanda said again, breathier, more urgent now. Her fingers moved now to tangle in your hair. She rocked back and forth more quickly. 

Her breasts came even closer and you squeezed them as you gave them your best attention. You kissed her hardened nipples, grazing them against your teeth and she kept up her pace.

You murmured low encouragements.

You could feel her legs tightening around yours. She couldn’t speak at all now. Any words had been lost to soft moans. 

She dragged herself hurriedly against your skin. Your nails dug into her ass as you moved her back and forth. 

Wanda whined louder. She called out your name, eyes still closed. You knew she’d called it out before.

You whispered hers. You told her that she needed to come. 

Even as her body relaxed and the hazy look entered her eyes. Wanda’s hips moved rhythmically back and forth. 

Slowly they came to a stop.

Wanda looked at you. Cheeks flushed. Relaxed smile. Hair messed.

You slid your hand between her legs.

You dragged your palm against her one last time, just to make her pelvis twitch. 

Wanda gave a happy sigh.

A timer beeped in the other room.

[lunerenzo]

Next Lifetime, 02

Art cred(s); @wacuoms

☆ Pairing(s). Barista!Suguru geto x Nursing student! reader 

☆ Content. Swearing, fluff, talks of food, reader is intended to be black but anyone can read, please let me know if i missed anything :)

☆ Notes. This chapter was a bit harder to write, but I'm still gonna try to update as often as possible. Words in bold is reader.

☆ Word count. 1.84k

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED, Enjoy!

Masterlist. | Prev. | Next.

“Somethings off about you.” Shoko mumbles, eating one of the cookies she stole from the display cabinet. Suguru had been awfully cheery despite her and Satoru leaving him to do the morning rush by himself.“What are you talking about? I’m fine.” He responds with a  small smile, preoccupied with washing some of the tupperware. “No, she’s right. You’re not yelling at us for eating the food, what happened?.” Gojo bellowed with his mouth half full. Feet swinging as he sits on the counter. Suguru shrugs, turning off the water and grabbing the dish rag off his shoulder. “Well, if you were here like you were supposed to earlier, you would know.” “Okay, but we’re not talking about us. We’re talking about you.”

Suguru scoffs, squatting down and putting the cups in the cabinet. “There uh, was a girl that came in early this morning.” Behind him, Shoko and Gojo look at each other. A look of confusion on each others face. “Okay, a customer came in? So what?” He stands back up to his full height after putting everything away. Turning around and leaning against the back counter. “Yeah but like…i don’t know dude. She was beautiful.” Gojo hops off the counter after noticing a customer walk-in, dusting his hands off. Shoko groans, rolling her eyes. “I swear to god, if you hook-up with another-” Geto whips his head in her direction, scowling. “Oh, shut up.” “No, she's right. Do you know how many people we’ve lost because of you?” Satoru chimes in, ripping off the paper from the printer. Walking to the other side of the back counter and pinning the order on the assembly line above . “What was the last guys name? I think it was jay…Or was it Rowan?” Geto smacks the back of his head. “Ow!” “Shut the fuck up, this is different.” They sit there quietly for a while. Shoko walks by shaking her head, glancing at the order sheet before getting to work on the milk bread while Gojo works on the drink. “You’re just mad cause you know we’re right.” 

“Anyway..” Suguru grits, glaring at them both briefly. “She had came in as soon as I opened almost. I was kind of irritated because like..who is up and about that early in the morning, but when i turned around and it was like the world stopped..” Shoko and Satoru rolled their eyes simultaneously. “I don’t know if it was the sunset and the lights playing tricks on me or what, but it looked like she was literally glowing. And she had these gorgeous [e/c] eyes. Her hair was pushed back and so i could see her face and she was the most beautiful person I’ve seen. Her voice was nice too, was kinda velvety but still sounded sweet.” “What was her name?” Satoru mumbled, crushing pieces of mango in the bottom of the glass, adding flavored iced cubes in shortly after. “[Reader].” Shoko looks up from the plate she was preparing. “You get her number?” His lips part slightly before pressing them together, looking down before mumbling lowly. “No.” Shoko and Gojo snicker at his misfortune, watching as he wallows in a corner.

    •───────•°•❀•°•───────•

It’s well into the evening, things have slowed down. Few people, students, sitting in keeping to themselves as the trio have a hushed conversion. The bell that hangs above the door goes off, causing said employees to disperse lazily. “Good evening.” Shoko says with a smile on her face, The other two sit there on their phones. “Hello!” Suguru’s head snapped up, It was her. The girl from this morning. Twice in one day? He didn’t know what he did to deserve this but he is not complaining. He shoves his phone in his back pocket, straightening his clothes a little and tucking the loose hairs from his half-up, half-down, hairstyle away before turning around from behind the counter. 

“H-Hey!” He waved briefly, a lop-sided smile plastered on his lips as he tries to not sweat literal bullets. [Reader] looks at him briefly before doing a double take and her eyes widen slightly, a huge smile on her face. “Oh, hey Suguru!” His heart stuttered a bit. “What are you doing back here?” “I wanted to study but i didn’t want to stay cooped up at home either. Ya’know?” Geto chuckles a bit awkwardly, shaking his head. “Totally.” He had no clue what she was talking about. “Uh, what did you wanna get?” He lightly pushes Shoko away with his hip, taking over the register. She looks up the menu that hangs above, Suguru uses this as a chance to admire her. His eyes slightly lidded with a gentle and dreamy look in them.

“Uhhh, i’ll take a dragonfruit mocktail and a vanilla bean cake.” He jumps slightly, straightening his posture.  “Five, fifteen.” He pops open the register once he notices her pulling out cash. Handing her change once he takes it. “No need, keep the change.” His brow lifted, “Seriously?” “Yeah.” Suguru closes the drawer, pocketing the little money. “I’ll get it to you soon.” He nods, as she walks away with a small ‘thanks’. “So when's the wedding?” Gojo giggled. Geto rolls his eyes, he honestly forgot they were even there. “Oh fuck off.” “You should’ve seen the way you were looking at her.” Shoko added. He rolls his eyes moving past them to start on the order. “Okay, whatever. Can you not be so loud about it? She’s literally two feet away.” Gojo strolls to the side of him, leaning on his elbow to look at him despite Suguru deliberately avoiding him. “So, you gonna get her number?” He leans over him, grabbing the small pitcher of lime juice. “Uhh, maybe.” He says slowly, pouring a little of it before grabbing the bag of freeze dried dragon fruit. 

“If you don’t i will.” Shoko declared, leaning against the counter on the other side of Geto. Watching [Reader] as she sat in the bean bag across the way. Pulling out her laptop. “Like hell you will.” Suguru argued, smashing up the fruits at the bottom of the cup and putting ice in it. “Don’t even know if she’s single.” He grumbled, snatching the liter of sprite from the mini fridge.  “Just ask, and if she says she isn’t, get her number.” Gojo shrugs. “Yeah, you’re making a big deal out of nothing.” Shoko added, getting a slice of vanilla cake out and on a plate. He sighs. “I’ll try.”

☆A/N. I don't know how to feel on the ending. I'm making the masterlist for this soon. If any want to be on the tag list let me know!

© 2023 lunerenzo, please don’t plagiarize or translate work.

[zarvasace]

Hey gamers! Would you like your very own physical copy of a LU Shatterproof story?

Well then do I have the overdesigned project for you! This document has the same text as the AO3 story bonds, the Valentine’s 2024 special, but it has been sized and laid out correctly for a physical booklet! All you need is a printer that can print grayscale and double-sided, scissors, and maybe a stapler.

Find the PDF on Google drive here. (This is my creation, so please don't edit the PDF or remove credit thank you! If you want a different layout or something let me know and I might be able to hook you up!)

Instructions for assembly below the cut.

Download the PDF and press the print button. (The file is called "240225_bondsquarto2_typeset")

If you'll notice, the pages are all out of order. That's because it's meant to be folded in a specific way! (Troubleshooting: I noticed that opening this pdf in Firefox took out some of the words, specifically in Legend's section. I suggest opening in Edge or Chrome or something.)

Print Settings:

Portrait layout

Double-sided: print on both sides, SHORT edge flipping.

Letter paper size.

Fit to printable area for most printers (will have a white border on some edges) or actual size if your printer can go edge-to-edge. Messing with margins and trying to get that right is what took me forever. You could fit to printable area and then trim the margins off if you really feel like it.

1 page per sheet.

You should end up with two sheets that look like this:

Fold the first sheet short edge to short edge. Crease that really well, then open it up and cut it nicely along the crease. A straight edge cutter, or ruler and blade, would be nice but I just did scissors.

Progress so far:

Now fold and cut the other sheet exactly the same way. Arrange the pieces in this order:

Now set them all nicely together and fold all of it in half. You could do each sheet one by one but it isn't that long. Make sure to crease that fold really well!

Then staple or sew the edges, or bind however else you want. I used a stapler. Red thread would be really thematic though.

And ta da! You have your very own limited edition copy of bonds! :)

Last step: take photos and tag me so I can see how you did it!!